How odd that I decided to write about water as a theme this month and, here we are, freezing rain!  I went out to break into my dear little red car.  It was encased in ice.  Surprisingly the doors opened.  In my day I have clambered in by the hatch back.  There was a base of soft snow with a thick crust of ice.  What a satisfying deep crunch when the boot breaks through to the snow below.  Just negotiating the steps was an adventure.  I suppressed a reflex to run inside, sit on a tray and slide downs.  The sober gaze of my Chinese neighbors put the brakes on that impulse.  They come out en famille as soon as the first lonely flake falls and even now their driveway is immaculate and their cars are perfectly brushed off.  I have no driveway or garage and so I must deal with the snow banks created by the ploughs that whisk by in the middle of snowy nights.  The sound of them roaring along makes me turn over under the duvet.and dismiss the horrid thought of dealing with dirty crusty high snow banks.  However, my dear grandmother’s dictum – “You must face up to things” soon drives me out into the grey light of early morning.  I wave to my neighbors and dig, and dig, and walk around the car and dig some more.  The hugh ice floes that slipped off the car were an amusement but. . . frankly, I could have done without it.  Finally I had scrabbled a megre track and although I did not need to move my car, I was sure that I could if I needed to.  I get substitute claustrophobia when my car is ploughed in.  My only consolation for an hour’s digging and maneuvering is below.

How cross I was when this little vine did not put out the showy flowers promised.  But now, see!  Every leaf and stem is coated with water? Ice? Crystal?  What is it?