Document 775

Januar'

Author(s): 794

Copyright holder(s): Joan Queen

Nae burds are singin’ the day as the win’ whissles roon the hoose. They’re awa hidin’ oot in the fir trees, that sway back and furth in the blast. The birk wi’ its white bark gies the only glint o’ pleesure. Ken, the spidery web o’ twigs agin the grey sky weaves a pattern sae complex that the e’en canna travel frae tip tae stem an’ back agin wi’ oot won’er. But, nae burd is daft eneugh tae hing up there by its taes tae be blawn aboot willy-nilly in the cauld blast.

Ginger, the cat, is nae whar in sicht no even when I keek oot the door. An’ Ginger can hear a door open awa doon the bottom o’ the gairden an try tae slink by ma legs intae the warmth o’ the hoose. He’s sleekit.

Mind, Januar’ has its joys tae: the rid hot coals blazin’ in the grate, slices o’ left-owre Christmas cake tae devour, the tick-tock o’ the wag-at-the-wa’ and the reglar patter o’ rain on the windae-pane, no forgettin’ the seed catalogues wi’ a’ the promise o’ times tae come, whiles the weet claes birl roon an’ roon on the whirligig.

The win’ hurls roon the hoose an’ moans doon the lum. Ache! I’m playin’ at never-heed!

Information about Document 775

Januar'