Vantage Point

The cold has been relentless for the last month. Minus five each night and briefly above freezing in the sunniest part of the day. I know this is chicken feed for North Americans but for so early in the winter, this has been very cold for our part of France. Everything is ringed and rimmed in frost and it  has formed so thickly night after night in the shade, that it now looks as though heavy snow has fallen.

Each morning is utterly clear and pink streaks the sky and laces between the bare trees. At dusk every branch is clear against the pale sky and at night the stars glitter with a cold violence in the darkness.

My cats fluff themselves up in their second generation wild cat coats and step delicately into the frost. Pixie refuses to put her front right paw down at all and hops ludicrously alarming the hungry birds, until she is let back into the warm and settles down to admire the cold from the vantage point of a warm radiator under the window.

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