Snow

For the first time since the Beast of the East, we have snow in Canterbury. Instead of the jewel colours of iris reticulata, we have this:

Night glows with the blue Arctic winter daylight. How I wish my camera could capture it.

Day dazzles and speaks of far-away mountain peaks one could see, faint in the distance, in my hometown skies.

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Minute sun-kissed snow vales and hills, on which a bird signed its passage. Looking attentively, one can see gold threaded in the snow.

But February is, in this land, already Spring