Winter comes to Regency Somerset, the Snow covers the Ground, and Ice Rink is created, and the Joys which are those of Winter, from the Warmth of being next to a warm Harth, to the beuty of the Moon lite snow are here.
As the days grow shorter, a Cool breeze starts coming off the North West,
The Green Leafs of Spring, have grown Old, and have turned amber, red and gold, then fall to the ground, like is the cycle of life.
One morning I awake, and Snow, Snow has fallen, one cover the ground, the creek by Burton green has frozen, the hills have settled in for there long winters nap and the field are safely asleep, with a blanket of snow. What a glories view. And the smells of Yorkshire putting, Mincemeat pies, Hot Apple Cider, wafting up from the kitchen below. Winter has come to Regency Somerset.
As the days grow shorter, a Cool breeze starts coming off the North West,
The Green Leafs of Spring, have grown Old, and have turned amber, red and gold, then fall to the ground, like is the cycle of life.
One morning I awake, and Snow, Snow has fallen, one cover the ground, the creek by Burton green has frozen, the hills have settled in for there long winters nap and the field are safely asleep, with a blanket of snow. What a glories view. And the smells of Yorkshire putting, Mincemeat pies, Hot Apple Cider, wafting up from the kitchen below. Winter has come to Regency Somerset.