As we wandered down from the snow-blanketed Brontë moors, back to the little village of Haworth, we could hear carol-singing echoing up and down the valley, harmonising with the church-bells and the excited, gleeful laughter of children building snowmen and having snowball fights.
The falling snow danced in delicate, glittering flakes to the ground, embellishing the trees, the church and our exposed cheeks and noses and eyelashes with shining silver-white magic.
A tiny robin with a vibrant rust-red breast and shining eyes perched itself on the dry-stone wall, puffed up its feathers and, as the keeper of this magical land, nodded its little head to us as we passed, granting us entry into this wonderland of winter scenes. Once we arrived, slipping and sliding, back into the village, we made our way into a cafe with bright lights that flooded the darkening street with their warm, welcoming glow. The warmth of a huge mug of Yorkshire tea and the sweetness of a marzipan-coated slice of fruit cake chased away the cold from our fingertips and turned our faces a cheery, rosy red.
Yesterday was a day filled with simple delights and I felt like I'd tripped and stumbled into a picture-perfect Christmas card. Magic is real. I know, because yesterday I witnessed it in all of its glittering glory as it fell from the sky.
Happy Monday, my dearest friends 🎄✨
🎶: "Constellations" by The Oh Hellos -
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