When I got up just after five this morning I saw that we were having the first frost of this winter. Compared to last year we are about a week later and the frost and fog are less severe. I know because I photographed it.
In 2009 I wrote that “The autumnal equinox marks the time of the year when nature makes an offering to us all and explodes with colour and ripeness as it prepares to go to rest”. This year it feels as though the autumnal equinox had not happened at all.
A perfect September morning at my favourite time of the year indicates the end of the summer and means that we are open for business again after a long, lazy summer and days spent in the shade of an olive tree on a Mediterranean beach.
The land looked wintry but I could feel that the end of winter was near when I pressed the shutter release button on this February day. The end of the winter was also the end of my mother’s life. I last saw her in December, at the end of autumn.
Craving snow is wishful thinking in this country but frost, that we do exceedingly well. This is how the world greeted me on this December morning. The heavy frost on the trees and in the landscape crafted a sublimely delicate and almost monochrome arrangement.
As I stumbled out of bed and staggered along the first floor landing with my mind fixated on my daybreak duties, I was greeted by the waning sickle moon rising over the Wiltshire countryside on this frosty, last day of winter.