At last a day of sunshine breaks the mists, gales and prevailing dullness. Mosses, lichens, ferns and flowering camellias thrive in the mild damp and, before Christmas, an unusual drop of holly leaves accumulated in fresh green drifts. On our waterlogged lawn, a pair of pigeons regularly waddle, grazing on celandine, dandelion and daisy leaves, and a tentative song of thrush speaks of spring too early.
On this rare interval of winter brilliance, wooded tracks are traced with tree shadows, but the narrow lanes oriented east-west remain cold and sun-free all day. At Calstock, in full sun, the cobbled quays, once heaped with mineral ores, are crowded with the cars of residents and new year visitors. The River Tamar’s tide ebbs fast, water running brown below the shining mudbanks and beds of bedraggled reeds.
