Day 15: Hear The Angels Sing

Today was the first day that I feel confident I would definitely not have gone for a walk if it wasn't for this commitment, and blog.  I've still got the remnants of my cold.  Temperatures outside are below zero.  Prior to leaving, I'm warm and comfortable, and a little tired.  I'm working away and have plenty more to do.  There is every reason to stay inside, and not a whole lot of good ones (it seems) to leave.  But the key is to set out without thinking too hard about it, other than to bundle up really well, and try to gather a bit of a plan as to where I will walk tonight.

The night sky is fading quickly from the golds and pinks and reds that I saw out the window when I started bundling up.  The moon, shining only faintly as I leave the house, realises as it gets darker that we are reliant on him for light, and begins to take courage and make more of an effort.  The air feels like ice down my throat, and I'm glad I wrapped up with an extra thick scarf, which I use to breathe through.  It's difficult to know where to walk - the paths are iced over, but in a strange way.  All the footprints and bootprints in the snow from the past few days have frozen in place, so it's like walking on little frozen, rolling hills.  Walking on the unmarked snow is also a dangerous exercise, as it has that thin crusted layer which holds for the first step and then cracks and falls, sending your foot down into six inches of snow (while it laughs in glee at catching yet another one, I'm sure). I pass only one man on my entire walk, and he kindly warns me to watch my feet as I go on. 

I'm also thankful for the excuse of this blog to pull out my phone and take a few photos - it's too tempting to walk the whole way with the head down, hands in pockets, concentrating only on my feet.  But when I look up after a few minutes, the pinks and golds of a fading sunset have disappeared entirely, to be replaced with a deep, dark blue.  I stop for a moment to look out on the frosty fields, my breath coming out in those clean white dragon-puffs, and feel for a moment that I am looking out on 'O Holy Night', or 'While Shepherds Watched Their Flocks By Night'.  I don't see any shepherds, or flocks, but I'm in Scotland.  I know they're around here somewhere. 

Surely if I listen carefully, I can hear the angels sing.

Walk length:  40 minutes.