It's said that people who write about the weather show a distinct lack of imagination. So, to prove that point, I'll once again write about the remarkable meteorological inclemency that currently prevails.
Nodded off on the sofa last night and woke up at around midnight. Peered out the window at a street light that lit up what I thought was rain, but on closer inspection I realised it was snow. Went to bed half expecting to be snowed in this morning. Fortunately the snow must have been just a quick flurry because most of it had melted away. However, as I made an early morning cuppa, shoved another log on the dying embers in the stove and let Jock out for a quick wander around his estate, it started snowing again.
Have just checked the calendar and, yes, it's almost June. I can hardly see across the valley for falling snowflakes and, according to the thermometer thingy, it's minus two degrees. This is all very strange. Think I'll go back to bed.
A Winters's Harvest
1 week ago