pretty deep

can i run in this here magical winter wonderland? start running. ow. achilles do not like slippery pavement. jeep thing shoots past through slush. dick. tread cautiously across slushy brown road. soon be in woods. flipping snow-laden holly. whacked and showered again. snow brushes off. and is no trouble to run on. testing bit. near vertical little climb to get onto main path. slip. slip again. have to use hands as well. no one saw. main path. cathedralesque. along, on up little lane... of course... step out onto, er, golf course. top fairway, highest point around. leap sinuously like a deer through deep deep snow to the slope we used to sledge down. kids at the bottom with sledges. how do they even know about it? just as well didn’t bring sledge. aim for coach road. coach road slippery, not so fun. leave for other side of golf course. deep and soft and even. drift around. hone high-stepping running action. feels lidia chojecka-like. stumble on little rise. sign says captain’s charity bunker. down to farest side of course. all seems bigger than i remember, scandalous that people can’t walk around the outside. into wind, first time have felt cold. angled mirror on top of tall pole. why golfers need that then? watching swing? no good for watching running action. continue meandering lap. bright red flag is fluttering in wind. love this. back to coach road. suffer it until stile. fields. easy to run on thanks to snow. deeply rutted track may as well not be. field, muddy track, stony track, lane, all the same. magic. rat run lane, slushy, slippery. back to little lane by woods. woman skiing down as leaning on man. see says man. down top fairway again. feet getting cold. starting to stiffen. back through woods or by river and mill? want to see what river looks like so on down little path at end of woods. don’t know if it’s silence or a dip in the light but am suddenly moved by the sheer beauty. it’s so snowy. footbridge. no snow or icebergs on river. three grown-ups with sledges on other side of bridge. cross bull-less field to wooden bridge by weir. giant tv is flashing in glass-fronted house. drop couple of huge snowballs into water. satisfying plumpf. back along pavement, seek out the deeper snow and realise i’m actually in the road. wish it could be today every day.