Horses and silk slips.

You might have seen a small figure in a large grey duffel coat and a small grey bowler hat scurrying along or you might have missed her .She did not linger.
I would say no one lingers in this cold but there is no one about.
All is silent as Christmas day .

Even the seabirds and sparrows are missing .

In the chilly gloom wisteria blossoms hang like icicles.

Put something down and it's almost painful to pick up .The cold has drawn inside it .
The same with your clothes .Back in the car. In a fold of the fabric you are wearing lurks an icy slice of cold. As you move it does too. Lurking and lingering before surprising you with an extra small slap of sub zero as you start to relax .

Each horse in the field stands waiting.
The trouble is that we have all been waiting  so long we are not even clear on what we are wait for.

Amongst the post this morning was a brochure of jaunty summer skirts ,silk slips and sandals - give them to a horse I don't want them.

But I do and you do. We want to sit companionably bare legged, clinking the ice in our glasses.
The Egyptians worshipped (amongst others ) a sun god. I'm not saying they were right or wrong, I'm just saying.

Of weather and courage .

Wet
Bloated , saturated , water oozing from every orifice : eyes , arse and everywhere in between .The landscape is drunk on water .

Its Falstaff , its the fat boy of Dingley dell in the Pickwick papers .
Collar undone , belt undone , still it's fat with water . No sluish gate  , no lock and certainly no man with a broom will make a difference .

Wet
Two  young Canada geese , cocky and sarky come up from the estuary .They start  along the grass parallel to the path .
On the path trendy hikers and the determinedly middle class walk wet in the expensive attire that style forgot .
The two geese wink at me and start to strut mimicking the pretensions on the path .

Dry
Many years ago ,being reckless , I walked into the newly opened hairdressers .
There stood a tall , big boned Asian man . I sat down and told him I wanted "different " and "bold". He wanted to know how much courage I had got .
I told him.
He said he hoped I was as excited as he was. Then he cut my long , long hair . And then he cut some more and shaved some more .
I stood up again with just peach fuzz on my head .We were both excited and I walked away to turn heads .

Wet
The rain is never far away . Get half way down the hill and you are sodden before you start your day .
Tired of the relentless weather . Tired of being tired I sit at the table and remember livelier times . I reach over and put the phone on the table . I sit silent listening to the rain . I have the phone number but do I have the courage ?
I ring and he answers . So I summon what courage I can and and I and my long hair go out .
I remind him of that spectacular cut .We both smile broadly .
He cuts .

Dry
So I sit here ,  late at night , listening to fresh music and drinking sappy green wine .
He cut , we hugged and the saxophonist says I look like a confident woman .

And I am  - me and my short shock of fire cracker hair .