|Written by Sherry|
|Friday, 05 December 2008 08:12|
10 F. Fresh powder covers the garden. Tuscany in winter.
No fog, no mist; clear, bright, jovial, stirring, cold; cold, piping for the blood to dance to; Golden sunlight; Heavenly sky; sweet fresh air; merry bells. Oh, glorious! Glorious!
Charles Dickens, The Christmas Carol
And just because it is such a stunning contrast, here's what it looked like 4 months ago: