Winter’s bare reeds emerge from the white dunes, silhouettes against the white. Here and there the freezing wind has stripped the grass tufts of their blanket. Leaving them peeking through, open to the elements. The night’s frost has formed an icy crust on the snow. A satisfying crunch as I walk.
Mist floats across the surface of the pond, rising with warming sun. Russet reeds reflecting in the water. The whooper swans circle above, calling loudly. Diving in to land, skiing along, wings outstretched. Waves ripple outwards, causing the mallards to bob up and down on the wake. Moorhens dart from clump to clump, little black darts across the pool. The trees trail their branches to the mirror-like surface, and the clouds scud their way across.
Bleached reeds, fragile and delicate as old lace, rustling in the early breeze. Emerald green shines behind, short winter grass poking through. A band of stones glimmers silver, dawn dew glistening. Seaweed covered rocks shine black in contrast. Indigo sea is reached, flecked with white. Winter sky, banded with cloud. Layer upon layer of delight.