Chill

The forest was proper frosty this morning, and all the more beautiful that frosty dusting. The was a magical ethereal atmosphere amongst the stands. The canopies were silent, the ponies stood motionless and throughout the forest nothing appeared to move, a deserted landscape where every footfall could be crisply heard.  If there were other walkers about, I didn't see or hear them, to all intents and purposes we was alone, the forest was ours.  It may have been f*cking cold, and it was (the coldest I remember for some time), but it was welcomed, I'd have a morning like this over a wet one any time. Lovely.