In Winter Our summer walks are flower strewn, fragrant with nicotiana and rose. The varied repertoire of the mockingbird floats on the breeze all around us and we walk slowly, woman and dog, pacing our steps to the heat of the day. It is too easy to be dazzled by the sheer lavishness of this season, too easy to be distracted by the colour and the warmth, too easy to miss the magic. But here in heart of grey winter, the familiar pathway crackles with skeletal leaves. Woodsmoke drifts from the...
