The log pile is all robed in white.
The honeysuckle hedge that runs between our back deck and our neighbour's has donned a white prayer cap.
A teetering rim of snow tops the back of the garden chair.
Last night Mr Fox came hungry into the garden, digging under the drifts for the enamel bowl of scraps left out for him earlier. Hastings came to a standstill, the buses sliding on the steep roads that climb the hillsides up from the sea, in spite of gritting. The town hall became home overnight for a party of German students who made it here but couldn't get out from the town centre to arranged hospitality in scattered local homes.
This morning the snow is still with us, and the wind still blowing strong and cold, but the day is bright, giddy blue with wisps of cloud, the air joyous.
My tiny room looks out on these little row houses opposite.
I love snow days. No-one has gone out from our household today or yesterday, and right now somebody is playing the piano, the notes like clear drops of water in the quietness of the house.
I have completed a section of the book I'm writing, another one planned for after lunch. When evening comes, we will light the fire in the stove. Everything is peaceful. The house is spacious and expansive with high white snowlight. Thanks be to God for the happiness of this beautiful day.
And you? What's happening in your neck of the woods?
Blessings on you and on your day.