A kind of hush all over ...

Every day on my way to the train station, I pass a house whose front wall bears a delightful jasmine creeper crowned with myriad, too-early, yellow trumpets. Knowing that it must soon freeze, I wonder each morning what will happen to my flower friends.

From this very morning I opened my front door to a world that rests beneath a crispy, rejuvenating layer of frost. All life is slowing down, hibernating, maybe renewing, biding its time for the warmer months.

My gait slowed as I approached this house of interest, and I remarked that my jasmine plant bows its multiple heads in deference to the season that has finally come. But, far from being wilted into a soggy mess of detritus, the little yellow buds have been brittly captured by the cryogenic, awesome silence that only winter's freeze can bring.

* How Dutch I've become. Always harping on about the weather!