The faintest trace of daylight breaks through the darkness. The long battle between Winter and Spring draws to its inevitable conclusion. Winter has fought long and hard with cruel icy winds and biting frosts, but her arsenal is all but spent. Spring sends in her warmth and light, driving ever Northwards; the snow and ice, defeated, melts away. Battles rage, flurries of resistance dot the higher ground. Sensing victory is at hand, snowdrops raise their heads from the ground and dance.
Posted by: The Malt House | February 11, 2011
A Battle won
Posted in Autumn/winter, Spring/Summer | Tags: England, prose, shropshire, Spring
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