A quiet morning walk with Wilf. Time to ourselves before the house becomes a chaotic production line for bacon filled croissants. We've woken to that magical snow shrouded silence that hints at angel choirs and beating wings. No nativity oxen but we hear the gentle lowing of the two adventurous cows in the paddock across the lane. No shepherds but the welcome presence of one very happy sheepdog with snow on his nose. No star in the snowy sky but the lazy passage of a solitary heron. Christmas morning. A still point in a turning world. A sense that today, of all days, we are never alone.
A very happy Christmas to you all from a snowy France.