After several days of rain, leaden skies and chilly winds, we awoke to blue skies and brilliant sunshine, a heavy frost turning the grass in the garden to silver, light sparkling off the trees and shrubbery. It is cold this morning, but sunlight and blue skies are a gift after so many grey days, and the high clear light of this morning has a dancing golden cast to it.
In spite of the weather, or perhaps because it, all the trees in the village are bursting into leaves and catkins, and the ash trees are a particular delight at this time of year, every branch and twig hung with ornate plumes and tassels of pink, gold and new green. When I looked out over the garden toward the park at sunset last evening, the tall old maple trees there were all in bud and bright red against the evening sky.
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