As snow and ice cover the eastern counties of Great Britain, Wales is bathed in celestial light — for a trice.
It’s chilly with a strange east wind (of change, perhaps). The prevailing wind here is nearly always wet and westerly — it brings our weather from the Atlantic and snow storms from America — not so today, its coming from the Urals (I’ve got my Russian hat on.)
The sheep have not been gathered in, against the storm, but wait in disgruntled groups for fresh silage, the sweet smell of which precedes the shepherd on the crisp cold air.
Our valley is muted in the winter shade but the tops are bright, scoured dry by the icy wind.
which sends the turbines spinning and brings the snow ever closer — unless it all drops on England first!