It’s not for fun that leaves fall from deciduous trees to survive the winter.
Winter can be harsh, not for fun the log store is bursting to breaking; larders stocked.
Birds raid hedgerows for berries, while others head for warmer climes.
Squirrels bury seeds in store, wild ponies and hill sheep put on warm coats and foxes change colour; seas freeze.
Winter is long and its not for fun that hatches are battened down against the chill winds from the north east,
animals bury themselves under cover, their metabolism slowed to tick-over as sleep conserves energy.
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Yesterday on neighbouring Bredon Hill, I walk in a stiff freezing wind that sweeps across the slopes, light wind-blown snow gathers in the lee of stone walls, stands of Scots Pine hold firm. Sheep look startled at my approach and dogs bark at Dial Farm as evening approaches.
Today is mid-winter.