Jack frost came a callin’ and left a glaze of white

I woke this morning with a dull throbbing to the front of my head. Clutching my hair as if pulling it would take my mind off the little men with hammers who were tapping on my brain I staggered in to the bathroom.

How bad is it when you look at yourself and recoil in horror?. Even though I washed my face thoroughly before bed last night I had, somehow, managed to leave most of my mascara clutching to my eyelashes. This, during the night, had taken itself for a walk down my face and my cheeks were streaked with black. My eyes were tired and my mouth down turned at the corners. Man, I felt old.

Friday night relaxation

My friend Julie and I have got a little routine going to welcome in the weekend. We get together on a Friday teatime, about 4.30 pm, share the news of the week, open a bottle of a bottle of wine and relax while the kids play. It is a good way to end the week. We then part company amid vows to do it again the next week.

It sounds good doesn’t it? And it is until JC decides that he is going to undo all the effort that I have just put in to relaxing by staying up for a large portion of the night. Truly, there is nothing I like more than to hear my son laugh and shout “boing” as he jumps on the bed. I love it, just not a 3.30 am. At this time of the day I would much rather be tucked up, fast asleep.

And so, after little sleep, feeling old and looking worse; I staggered in to the bathroom, sighed and then threw back the curtains. What I saw cheered me up no end. There are fewer types of weather I enjoy more than what greeted me this January morning. Cold, clear and crisp.

I threw on some warm clothes, padded downstairs and flicked the switch on the coffee maker. I then grabbed my camera, tucked my feet into my Uggs and stepped in to the garden.

After a few restorative breaths I raised the camera to my eye. Through the viewfinder I saw that there was a crispy layer of frost coving the blades of grass on the lawn some of them green, some a tired brown. All of them glistening white. The honeysuckle bush in the corner of the garden had begun to push its new leaves through. On the hillside across the valley the early morning sunshine was reflecting off the corn silo and bouncing across the sheep fields. It was a perfect winters morning, cold and silent until…

…”Boing”. JC, still in his pyjamas and bare feet, bounced out of the door on to the damp, frosty patio. I quickly clicked the lens cover back on my camera and ushered him back inside to get some socks, shoes and his coat on.

My silence had been shattered but the delighted look on his face when he stepped on the grass and it crunched beneath his feet was worth breaking it for. We stayed outside until the cold got the better of us and hot drinks began to call.