I have never seen a wild thing feel sorry for itself.
A little bird will fall dead, frozen from a bough, without ever having felt sorry for itself.
- D.H. Lawrence
Our Snow Goddess delivered the lovely fluffy icy stuff in buckets last week, and for a few days our local streets were picturesque. What is it about snow? When I see images like the bird in the tree, it evokes the lines from old poets - like DH Lawrence and Robert Frost. A few lines popped into my head last week as I crunched along the icy paths. And, don't worry - that pigeon was full of life when I left him, -he flapped his wings so sudden and hard, covering moir in snow. Payback for snapping him with my flash, methinks. Here are a few Christmas cards from London which I hope you will enjoy!
|Two Roads diverged in a wood, and I--|
I took the one less travelled by,
and that has made all the difference. - Robert Frost
|Alas, the Postman did not ring twice,|
-he stayed away until Sunday...
|An old blue shed, gets a dusting of icing sugar.|
|The quintessential British icon all iced up|
Our snow has melted away for now but I have a sneaky feeling it may be back. *whispers* Christmas Eve, dear Snow Goddess, please come back then. x
Photo credits Yours truly.
A/N: How's everyone's WIPs? My first draft edits are chugging along, despite losing half a chapter - unwittingly swallowed by my netbook a week ago, -I did manage to rewrite another. I also stumbled upon another book from my TBR pile. It's fabulous-so far, kept me up all night. I shall review it later this month.
Did your Muse have you working over the weekend?