Write On The Beach © Sheila Williams Website Design © Write Good Books Write Good Books
Autumn – End of an Era
It’s a damp, misty, Saturday morning with rain pecking at the windows. But resist the temptation to snuggle down under the duvet – there’s a farm sale today. The flotsam and jetsam of a lifetime are to be sold and there are bargains to be had.
Spring – Lambing Time
I slip quietly downstairs where I sip scalding tea and watch the pink-grey light spread across the sky, casting a cold metallic sheen. Outside, my eyes water as the bitterly cold air cuts into me. I walk up to the farm and the grass starched by frost rustles underfoot. My breath puffs out in white clouds. From below, in the valley, the church clock chimes half-past six.
Summer – The Glorious Twelfth
It is a fine morning with a tentative sun casting a confusion of light and shadow over the dale. A little overnight rain shows the rabbit tracks on the cropped turf. From behind a gorse bush a solitary sheep lifts her head to stare at me before returning to graze.
Winter – The Winter of Discontent
The silent-falling snow flurries are gone, merely the prelude to the blizzard now driven in by a howling east wind and bringing down a maelstrom of swirling snow and ice. The lane to the cottage is completely blocked and the car trapped in a huge drift across the lane. It is a complete white-out. The road, the walls, the fields, the sky itself have merged into blinding brilliance. Sharp spicules of ice cut my face and the shrieking wind deafens me. I push, stomp and crawl the half mile to reach the cottage, carrying a precious bundle of supplies on my back.