Winter has hit Great Yarmouth with a vengeance—just to make up for all those years we’ve missed it.With an easterly wind blasting powdering snow at my windows so I can’t even see out, I’ve decided to keep the curtains shut. But where’s the sun?
I cut a double handful of daffodil buds on Sunday. Last night they opened. Outdoor sunshine, indoors. And they smell divine.
crispina kemp 
They ARE pretty. And I was just rereading a book (Picnic at Hanging Rock) in which daffodils figure.
Meanwhile, in Nova Anglia, we had a splendid and warm day, which was great because I had to bicycle about 20 miles.
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Odd coincidence, yesterday I started to watch a documentary about Ayres Rock (started but changed my mind), which reminded me of a film seen years ago. Yea, you guessed it: Picnic at Hanging Rock.
Meanwhile, though the snow stops the high winds do not: straight in from the east, straight into the three sides of my place, temperatures sub-zero, like minus 13 C (wind chill factor) and no matter how high I turn my hearing I still can’t beat that wind. It remains way beyond what might pass as ‘warm’ (and this is indoors). .
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Our version of the Siberian wind you’re suffering from is called the Montreal Express.
Now, layered on top of coincidence, the book I’m reading has a title that fits your situation: Ice.
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Oh, I do like. Myself, I’m reading Midwinterbloor. Yea, that could be apt as well.
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