In the cold, frosty night after the storm had cleared, the full moon beamed down on us.
Meanwhile, by day I played with the sun, as if that would help it to return more quickly,
and the little one played with the shells again, creating ‘butterflies’ from matching pairs.
I kept thinking of sun beams,
while she made a trail of special shells. ‘Look, the snail made a trail like a heart!’
There was enough warmth in the sun to go outside and play with bubbles: another little moon perhaps.
In the depth of winter, life becomes simple. And there is space for magic.