Listening to: Asleep In The Back EP (Elbow)
I stumbled through from the barn in my dressing gown and slippers, peered out of the window and the bit of me that will always be six years old gave a shout of joy.
Jack Frost finally staggered as far north as Orkney and there was snow on the ground. Not much, certainly not enough to convert one of the pig huts into a giant sledge (one day!), but there was snow.
Westray's bus service ran without hitch (Boris take note). I saw it go past the house as Mrs Pig "Farmer" was clambering into the car. We drove (a little more carefully than usual) down to the morning ferry.
The view of neighbouring islands Faray Holm, Faray and Eday as we dropped down to Rapness pier was breathtaking. Mother Nature had her dark palette out, the fields all browns and dark greens, the sea gunmetal grey as the steely morning light picked out every fold of the land, every nook and crannie of the shoreline.
Sal safely sent off to Kirkwall, I returned home where Little Kim and Sock were pushing their snouts into the snow and blowing, the horses grateful for a feed of hay and the dogs curled up in front of the fire.
I put the coffee on and remembered I'd made scones yesterday. He shoots, he scores.