This morning the house was cold, really cold, it made me want to stay in bed and pull the duvet up over my head until at least an hour after dawn, but the boys had other ideas.   I made them breakfast and then, rather grumpily, bundled up to go outside and collect wood from the far garage as we’d run through our inside supply last night.

The crisp air, the crunching snow and the tingle on my skin soon woke me properly and I began to enjoy my outside time.  When I turned to go back into the house with my heavy box of wood I was transfixed by the rising sun; I dashed inside for my camera and managed to capture a little of this stunning morning for posterity.

A year ago I was sitting in a rental house in a suburb, somewhere I didn’t want to be, dreaming of this land that had just become ours.  I have no words for what it means to me to be here, to be living in this beautiful place, to have the privilege of watching the sun rise over our fields each day.  Watching this light, like liquid welsh gold,  a red and yellow glow that paints the world in pastel colours and makes me catch my breath.

In that moment I don’t feel the cold, or think about the day and the work that still needs to be done.  All I can do is marvel at the beauty of it, at how far we’ve travelled to finally arrive at this place.

Tonight I sit in front of the fire, the dogs passed out on the warm floor, the boys asleep in their beds dreaming of Father Christmas.  There are gifts under the tree for me that I can’t wait to open, christmas has lost none of it’s glitter as I’ve aged.  But truly the greatest gift is being here at all.

Wishing you all a merry and above all peaceful christmas.