Winter’s biting harder now with frost set thick and white
And it makes me wonder how the plants survive their plight
But Corsican Pines with needles green, they take it in their stride
Memories of the cold and lean must linger deep inside
Those soldiers of the land of ice in endless frozen rows
This land must seem a paradise, compared to where they rose
The ground was coated with frost this morning. More than just a covering, the crunch of grass underfoot indicated that the cold had penetrated thoroughly. I wonder what it’s like to be frozen?
Long Meadow was white and glistening with the stuff, but by the path the trees had caught the sun and were ice free. Several of them had a good coating of Oakmoss, including a rather nice Birch specimen. The visibility was fantastic, with a crystal clear view of Bournemouth. Blackbirds were diving in and out of the hedge, and at the bottom of the meadows several Robins were in full voice.
The Woodland was alive with Grey Squirrels, bouncing along the paths and up in the branches of trees. I hope they’ve prepared well for the lean months. A few Blue Tits were residing in the bushes here, appearing briefly before swiftly re-locating out of sight. A Green Woodpecker’s call sounded in the distance, and nearby I spied a rustling patch of leaves from the corner of my eye. A Wren.
My eyes were drawn to the towering Macrocarpa trees, as always still in leaf and striking next to their naked companion trees. I mused for a time about how well they must cope with our seemingly mild weather, then I remembered that they come from California and are used to mild winters. By this time I’d already written half my poem, so I retconned it to be about the Corsican Pines in the park, which are frost hardy to -25˚C. Saved it!
Katie was also out and about this morning, noting an abundance of Redwings out on the meadows. A winter visitor to our part of the world, the number of nesting UK Redwings can be counted on your fingers and toes.