In the warming room that boasts a Bullerjan, I can just make out a glowing fire way back inside its fat, black barrel bristling with metal tubes, like exhaust pipes on a Spitfire.
Past the candle lights and through the window, double-glazed against the cold, lead-grey afternoon, stands the leafless skeleton of a sprawling lime, whose branches start thick near the trunk but grow ever thinner, as they divide and divide again, to end like capillaries, like a satellite image of Coopers Creek. Or so it seems.
And away to the horizon, the snow-covered Pyrenees, majestic, ethereal, like a Bob Ross painting.
I love to take shelter from the bitter cold. Having grown up in Queensland, the European winter is still a bit of a novelty. I can't wait for snow, which is predicted for next week.
As I said in the comment section of your last post, Happy New Year, Tony, for you and yours. Let's hope 2021will be better than 2020!
ReplyDeleteAs for the snow, I hate it. I don't care much this year, though, since I am in no condition to go outside and fight it!
Again, many wishes for a bright and prosperous new year.
And Cliona and I send heartfelt wishes to you Charles-Henry.
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