Frost is one of my enduring memories of growing up in New England. Frost, rare on the coast, is an ever present feature of the Tablelands and Western Slopes. O cold the black frost night, Judith Wright wrote, and indeed it can be.
Walking to school in the morning with the frost crunching under my feet is an enduring memory. With black frost, damp ground itself freezes.
In another spot, Judith writes:
rises that tableland, high delicate outline
of bony slopes wincing under the winter
I find these lines remarkably evocative. They do capture the winter feel of the Tablelands with edge of the ranges sharp in the clear, pale winter light.
I see that Bronwyn's new book, Dark Country, is now at the printers, allowing her to start work on her third. I am looking forward to reading it.