The morning dawned frosty and glorious.
Over on the allotments, shed and greenhouse roofs sparkle
in their overnight coating of polar glitter,
Beyond the ash trees, the muddy fields are transformed into winter whiteness.
After breakfast, I sneak out into the garden. in my slippers
the air is bitter
but the ground is dry,
I will only be a minute....
Who can resist venturing out,
when the world looks so beautiful,
despite our attempts
to tame and constrain -
a paving slab here, a plant there...
We fool ourselves that we are in control,
while Mother Nature bides her time,
and unseen weaves a counter offensive of vegetation.
silently sprouting in response to the call of the season.
Mocking the frail flora of my foolishness.
Shouting "I know best!" as battalions of bind weed
and companies of couch grass
form the future resistance movement
that will run rampant through my foolish endeavours.
I try to capture the contrast of frosted petals against the shroud of leaves from the denuded oak.
However, Mother Nature prefers appreciation
to her images to be savoured in the moment,
rather than locked away in digital files
never to see the light of day ,
One minute I am admiring the flowers,
the next my view
is somewhat askew,
as I travel
from the vertical to the horizontal.
Mother Nature has the last laugh
as black ice causes me to come a cropper -
My lens cap flies across the frosty sward.
Whilst at the feet of the french doors
lies a slipper,
with no Prince Charming
appearing to claim his reward.
My lens bearing the brunt of my downfall.
Bent and broken beyond redemption.
New, only a few weeks ago.
I learn to my cost,
that Mother Nature has subtle weapons up her sleeve,
and isn't afraid to call upon Jack Frost.
Adversity produces strange flowerbed fellows
as Mother Nature wins the battle,
and undoubtably the war.