The north wind is blowing and it is cold now. The early morning mist sparkles in the sunrise with pearly colours that slowly deepen into the icy blue sky of winter. Living on top of this hill means we get the full blast of the wind, but the mist is long gone here while it still lies like a veil over lower land. The air is crisp and clean when I walk to the yard in the morning. The grass is frozen and the gravel crunches under my boots. I breathe deeply and feel revitalised.
The horses are waiting for me, anticipating breakfast. Their breath hangs in the air like clouds of steam and they look like puff balls, but their eyes are bright and they whinny when they see me. They are not cold. Even Cassie’s silky coat seems to be enough. I am feeding an enormous amount of hay now, but a hungry horse is a cold horse, and there is no grazing in the frost.