Seeing as our Founding Fathers and Ladies are nestling snuggly in banks of Indiana snow, and we in England , ourselves, are promised a few inches on Monday morning, I thought it apt to bring down off the shelf, my blue ink and dip pen, and bring the knighthood the fine words of Robert Frost, whose poem : 'Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening' captures exquisitely the muffled and divine essence of the world around you almost stopping still, of nature on hold, and for one brief moment, like being in the vast space of an empty cathedral, or the silence of a house when you wake at dawn, your mind attunes to a place far beyond your mortal being.

( view from Sir Dayvd's castle winter 2007/08 )

Sir D ( ready to stack up the snowballs ) of Old Oxen-ford