After a red sky night I woke to a dry November morning with clear skies. There had been so many wet morning, I’d forgotten what a dry day looked like. I’d also forgotten what frost looked like and the lack of cloud cover brought the first frost of the year. The garden was a rime covered sparkling wonderland when the sun finally came up and I was excited to get out there.
13 November 2013
The first frost of the year had me excited to get out until I actually did and had a sharp, biting reminder of just what a cold and frosty morning feels like, especially when you can’t find your gloves. Before I actually set off I had a little look around the garden to asses the damage. Thankfully the pots are in a sheltered corner so the pansies and the lone calendula have survived the night, along with those surprise fuchsia flowers. The spokes of yellow flowers on the mahonia were half frozen but, as they’re winter flowering, I’m pretty sure they can handle it.
The leaves of the choisya by the front gate were ringed with ice, I guess that is the end of the flowers for this year. The rising sun had already melted the frost on the variegated holly beside it but I was surprised to see some little white flowers hidden between the leaves. Will there be berries? Who knows but I’m hoping. My hands were so cold I struggled to get a decent photo.
It’s been a long time since I took the river path and I was astonished to see the snapdragons, self seeded under the hedge, still flowering. When I first spotted them they were in bud and I waited with bated breath to see what colour they would be. Those acid yellow flowers have certainly stood the test of time. The ones in my garden, carefully tended, are long gone.
There were masses of swans on the water, I’ve never seen them in such numbers along here. They were scrabbling around noisily for weeds and insects and I wondered if it was flooded further up the river, making food hard to find. By the viewing platform the reds and oranges of the autumn foliage made beautiful reflections in the still water, rippled only by the swimming swans. Looking across the little bay towards the sun, the morning mist swirled over the water creating an eerie scene.
On the edge of the path a single pink rosebud, speckled with melted frost, surprised me. By this time my fingers were numb, despite my hands being pulled as far into my sleeves as possible, and I could feel the cold nipping at my arms through my parka. I really need to sort out some warmer clothes, I’ve been lulled into a false sense of security by the unseasonal warmth so far. By the water it’s a few degrees colder so I stomped along as fast as I could until the Big Bridge came in sight. Then I stopped because the clarity of the water and the reflection of the bridge had me reaching in my pocket for my phone again.
Soon I reached the embankment and the phone came out again to capture the silhouette of the skeleton ship. Then there were the crispy, frost covered leaves on the grass along with the red ones from the whitebeam and the odd berry. Gloves were what I needed, my painfully frozen fingers were crying out for them, and I wished I’d spent a little longer looking before I left the house. They were in my pocket at the football on Saturday so they had to be around somewhere. For someone so very organised at work I’m a disaster at home.
The phone stayed firmly in my pocket after that, my hands pulled right into my sleeves. It took a while to cross the road and I tried to make up time by marching through the scary estate as quickly as I could, then along past the stadium. There was one more stop to take a picture of the cement factory. With the low sun coming up behind it, even the giant machine, munching away at stones, can be a thing of beauty. Well, I think so anyway.
Would you believe, at work, when I fished around in my rucksack for my computer glasses, there were my gloves hiding in the bottom. They’d been there all along! My hands needn’t have been frozen after all, I could have kicked myself. To thaw them out I made a nice cup of coffee and cursed my own stupidity.
Arabella was supposed to be in the office but she’d been called up to the the Frozen North for a meeting. I’ve never know a company have so many meetings, they even have meetings to decide when the next meeting will be. Personally I’d rather be doing some actually work but what do I know? My morning was all about gathering biographies and photos for the 2014 cruises and chasing up those that are missing or need updating.
One of the lovely Phillapino reception staff on board is getting married next month and the Jamie Oliver Does.. book with recipes from around the world we’ve bought her needed wrapping paper so I volunteered to get some in my lunch break. Alice and I walked up into town. Thankfully it was a little warmer. In Costa my friendly Spanish barista tried to talk me into a ginger bread muffin. They looked lovely, each with a tiny ginger bread man on top but at over five hundred calories I daren’t. Tempted though I was I stuck to a skinny latte in a Christmassy cup.
The afternoon was spent looking at film clips on line trying to find enough for the ship over the Christmas period. It’s a tough job, there are lots of films but most are unsuitable, too much sex, violence or bad language for our passengers and, much as I like some of the children’s ones, they’re not suitable either. I was acutely aware that this will be the last time I choose the films and that made me sad. To cheer myself up I made a coffee and had a little look out the window at a rather moody sky. Somewhere over the water towards Hythe or Marchwood there was a fire, smoke spiralling into the air. I wonder what that was all about?
Anika called a meeting soon after that. She’d been cooped up with one of the accounts people from the Frozen North most of the day and wanted to fill us in on what was going on. By now most of us have given up caring. Whatever they decide to do we won’t be a part of it and, the way things are going, they’ll just change their minds and it’ll all be different next week. Because of the meeting I missed most of the sunset which was a little annoying. I could see pink reflected on the wall of the building out of the corner of my eye and just wanted to get away so I could look outside.
When Anika finally stooped talking I dashed to the window just in time to catch the last of it before my walk home in the dark. The sun had already gone but streaks of pink clouds caught the last of the colour and the river still had a red glow. Wonder if that means another nice day tomorrow?
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