Swelling Buds

 We had a purling of snow during the night that seems to have taken some of the coldness out of the air. I decided to leave the bike at home and head down to the harbour on shanks pony.

The bright sunshine was deceiving, out of its sphere, and into the shadow, there was a good chill that attacked my lugs without remorse. Growth is everywhere you look, in swelling buds on the numerous flowering cherry trees around St Andrews and down by the Kinness Burn the weeping willow is showing colour too.

Walking through the woods the ground was hard with frost but where the sun had penetrated the frost was coming out of the ground and making things rather messy.

There were plenty of older students around, possibly they had remained in their accommodation over the Christmas and New Year festival, mostly in pairs and mostly enjoying each others company.

Family groups had gathered on the grass above the East Sands, and there too children play. The kiosk was suffering little from the lockdown going by the line of people awaiting their turn to buy.

The waters of the harbour were slack and so at peace.

I journeyed back along South Street, mostly devoid of people, home by twenty-past one o’clock. As soon as I opened the door the smell of dinner hit me, setting my mouth to water. I had put a pot of mince and onions on the stove to simmer whilst I was away, for it was time to break my fast. Mince and tatties, they’re gid tell yir ma.     

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