Walking Home - Winter

In Winter.....

the sun sets early and quickly, there is no lingering twilight. The temperature drops noticeably as soon as the sun disappears beyond the mountains on the western horizon. The surrounds are overwhelmingly monochromatic; the window panes, the footpath, the fences, the clouds, all are varying shades of grey, charcoal and soot. Even the word "dusk" sounds grey.

The cold cement of the footpath seems to eat my footfalls muffling the sounds of my steps. I pass the houses in the streets in total anonymity, no-one hears me, no-one sees me, they are insulated within. The blinds are pulled and curtains are drawn shutting out the cold and locking in the precious warmth.

The smell of smoke from newly lit fires is strong.

Occasionally I hear a lone bird's short song but they are not to be seen. They have tucked themselves away early for the night.

There is snow on the mountains standing out stark white against the deep plum of the mountains. The trees are skeletised and form lineal silhouettes against the sky.

My mind is quieted and at peace. My skin on my face feels young and fresh from the icy wind but I have my mouth and tip of my nose buried in my scarf and by now my breath has created a tropical micro-climate.

How good it is to finally reach home. I appreciate the comfort and shelter all the more. I remember as a little girl, lying in bed saying my night-time prayers to God and being thankful the roof over my head and my nice warm bed with lovely clean sheets. Simple comforts that I am so grateful for still and thankful that I was born into this life.