Poultry winter sunlight

January is here, with eyes that keenly glow,
A frost-mailed warrior
striding a shadowy steed of snow.

Beautiful. Cold. Sparkling.

I burn cardboard boxes and prunings. The chooks get fresh straw. Angus gets collected from Macbiehill, exhausted and burdened by PA.

I drop him in town and head to Kinghorn, where Claire has bought M&S salads for tea.