On the last day of the year...frosts and wreaths and Christmas trees...

 Stunning sunrises this week....

...no snow, but the frosts have been hard and glittering...

 Inside, the Christmas tree glows with the beauty of the memories held in each decoration, collected through the years...Alice wears her special Christmas scarf and luxuriates in the warmth...

 ...while outside the cloudless blue means it's freezing! But SO beautiful, too..

 I particularly love the long shadows cast by the low sun at this time of year...

 ...and the frost makes every leaf look like a tiny iced sculpture...

 It was so thick this morning, that it looked almost like fur on the arm of the garden bench...

 I always enjoy looking at the different festive wreaths on the doors around the square....

 ...the one above is quite tiny....sweet!

 The little tag on the wreath above says 'Santa please stop here....' and I have it on good authority that he did! I left some of the Hallowe'en pumpkins outside...now rimed with ice...

 It's time for porridge in the mornings now...with a little Canadian maple syrup, some sea salt crystals and preferably served in my perfect Paul Jessop jug/bowl! It warms the soul right through until lunch...

 And despite the cold, there are signs that slowly but surely the season is turning. The days are a little, a fractionally little, longer...and then there are the more obvious signposts...

It will be a while before they flower, but they will and Spring will return to wake up the world.

I hope you're enjoying a wonderful Christmas and New Year celebration...and that 2015 brings us all happiness, health and joy.

I want to leave you with a beautiful, peaceful image for this, the last day of the year. It's taken from one of my very favourite books - " The Country Child" by Alison Uttley...an autobiographical account of growing up on a remote Derbyshire farm at the end of the 19th century. It is a constant joy to me, and I hope you love it too. x

"The New Year hung in the air, hovering with wings outstretched above the farm, carrying joy and sorrow in its feathers, waiting, waiting for the big clock to strike twelve. Dan stood outside with his coat-collar up, shivering in the steely air, staring up at the sky and across the vast dark to the hills.

The New Year shook and swooped down as the clock began to strike. Dan opened the door and entered as the last stroke died away and the year flew in, filling the house at once, from the empty attics to the dairy where the milk froze in the pans.

Susan sat up in bed, listening to the rush of wings, Becky wished for a sweetheart, and Margaret said a prayer. All the bells began to ring, Mellow Church pealed out a chime of bells, and the lone bell of Brue-on-the-Water called softly, and faded to nothing through the woods...."