"Dark" December

This December has seen some periods of deep frost here in the north east of Scotland. Whilst the south of the UK has been soaked with rain, here it's been dry and clear, the land held in an iron grip; there have been many days when the temperature has stayed below freezing.  I much prefer this dry, brittle cold - it's weather one can really enjoy rather than endure.

On one morning when our home weather station was reading -6 Celsius i took a short walk just as it was getting light.  walking up through a stubble field across from the house towards a line of large beeches and oaks which form the skyline from our living room, I hoped to catch the sunrise - at this time of the year that's not an early start!

The only sound was the brush of my boots through the stubbles left from the barley harvest.  I stopped to listen to the stillness, and slowly began to hear the sounds of the morning.  Bird contact calls almost at the top of my hearing range indicated a flock of mixed Tit species moving along the line of trees, then a sharp bark drew my eye along the top of the field line where a small family group of Roe Deer had spotted me.  I angled away, unwilling to force them to use precious energy, but as soon as I moved they bounded gracefully away and out of sight.

From the ridge the view to the south east over the Howe of Alford was all about the glory of the sky; the farmland and hills still in deep shade.  I settled down to wait for the sunrise and sat with my back against one of the large oak trees.

Close at hand there was beauty too, each fallen leaf edged in delicate and perfect frost crystals.  To sit still was to start to hear the place - with almost no man-made sounds to distract.  Small birds calls, the call and flutter of a cock Pheasant and, thrillingly, heard but not seen - the thrumming wingbeats and wild calls of a party of Whooper Swans, the graceful angels of winter.

At last, around 0905 the sun rose beyond the ridge of Correnie Moor.  The sun rises well south of east at this latitude and the high ground leading to the hill of Benaquhallie delays sunlight reaching the Howe.

Once the sun rose, everything changed.  Searing light flooded across the land and brought colour and definition, if not much warmth. 

As I strolled back down the field to the house the sunlight reached across to the hills beyond.  Our house is in a slight dip and often the temperature dips significantly around sunrise as the hills above warm up and cold air sinks downslope.

At my feet each barley stalk was tipped with a flower of frost, the rows looking like miniature icy forests.

above, the Pink Footed Geese were on the move from their roosts, great skeins straggling across the sky trailing their wild music.  The geese are a real feature of winter and Aberdeenshire often hosts huge numbers.

During another period of really intense frost we took a walk to a narrow valley where we hoped to see the real beauty of the conditions.  The sun doesn't reach here much during the short winter days and the frost hadn't lifted for days.  It was really frigid and completely silent.

Dead grasses had been transformed into stunningly beautiful works of natural art - the glittering light better than any expensive crystal glass.  We took lots of images, these are just a few of them

The dead head of a cow parsley plant had become something quite special, every tiny surface edged with the most perfect frosting.

The December days might be short with barely six hours of daylight, but when winter is a stunning as this, it's as good as any other season!