Ice Art


With most of the rest of the country under snow, our little micro-climate had none, and was just minus two degrees when Jackie drove me out to the forest this morning.

Around Wootton and Wilverley Plain, the terrain and its pools felt freezing frosty fingers;

frigid ferns flickered;

fallen leaves lit and unlit lay lambent or shaded.

Trees, bracken, and lichen brightened as the sun rose above larger arboreal screens.

Dog walkers strode across the plain.

Steam spiralled from nostrils of cattle and ponies.

A fret saw had been applied to the small patches of frozen water scattered among layers of leaves and pebbles, producing delicate ice art.

The way we live now means that friends and relatives dropping in on spec is largely a thing of the past. That our niece, Danni does this periodically is therefore doubly pleasurable, because she is, of course, delightful company, and knows a thing or two about the use of computers.

We enjoyed convivial company for an hour or two and she was able to confirm that I wasn’t doing anything wrong in trying to search out receipt of a recorded delivery letter I had sent to a partner of O’Neill Patient, the solicitors who had provided such appalling service over the remortgage. Almost a month after sending the letter I had received no reply, so, this morning sent a rather shirty e-mail. The response was that they had never received the letter.

After spending the best part of half an hour on the phone to Royal Mail, I learned that the letter had never been delivered, and had neither been kept by them nor returned to me. Apologies were profuse. I then sent another e-mail apologising for the tone of my first, sending a copy of the letter, and stating that, when the recipient had read it, he would understand why I had assumed that it had been received but not reached his desk.

Later this afternoon I collected the currency from the bank and posted it to Australia.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s famed chicken jalfrezi and pilau rice. My wife drank Hoegaarden and I drank Mendoza Parra Alta Malbec 2016.


  1. I love the ice shots, Derrick! I’m sorry you’re still having difficulties with the mortgage company. “We didn’t get it” sounds like a lame excuse for, we screwed up. I hope things work out soon.

  2. After abusing the solicitors wrongfully, perhaps you should have hopped a plane, and delivered the money personally.
    .I like the way you’re laying out your photographs. Really looks first class

  3. The Iceman seems to have used a soft brush in your neighbourhood. Unfortunately, the same cannot be said of the mail carriers and mortgage handlers. We have much bitter (and shocking experiences) out here on regular basis. We are spared the icy claws of winter though in most parts of the country.

  4. Snow is beautiful, of course but often ice and frost are even more so …..gilding as they do rather than concealing. My favourite moment in this entire piece though was the simple comment β€˜my wife drank ….’ ❀️

  5. When it comes to taking pictures, you can’t beat ice and frost. Even after our devastating ice storm in 1998, there were opportunities for lovely photos. Glad to read things have cleared up with the remortgage.

  6. The frost and ice photos are splendid, Derrick, as are your lovely descriptive phrases.
    I’m glad you got the situation straightened out with the mortgage company.

  7. It was 25ΒΊc at midnight but the temperature has been dropping since. It won’t get hotter today if you believe the forecast; ten degrees cooler than yesterday. Your ice cooled me further but the clothes on the dog walkers didn’t.

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