Old stone house, you stand as a sentinel small and warm, shielding ghosts of the future and, sheltering those from earlier times. Oft I do wonder what your walls, floors have recorded before and since electrification, the age of light and the age of dark. You hold your secrets close, as close as the faery tree that appears to be a post in one corner - that is to the uninitiated!
Ice Maiden your beauty gleamed as diadems on stems in crisp hedgerows, elsewhere on river bank from rock and frond, you are seen as dainty crystals, diamonds, contrasting with shadow to dance, glow and seduce a photographer to capture your shining beauty.
I am not sorry to see that a thaw has started. For cabin fever was almost upon us, restricted as we were by ice-snow compacted roads - that are now changing to deep dying dirty slush, that squelch, splash in spasms under tyres.
Enough, enough Snow Spirit you have had your fun and made your presence felt
and now thank goodness you will soon melt !