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Death of a Crystal, A Shining Life
Yesterday saw out the last day of February in 2017.
The morning was crisp with bright sunshine and the early morning frost was still thick on the branches of my six weeping birches.
All around there was the gentle sound of dripping as the warming sun's rays melted the grip of winter and jewels of ice fell inevitably to the ground. Spring felt near.
Up close, these small fragments, held precariously by fingered twigs, seemed like rough-cut diamonds or irregularly shaped miniature comets suspended in space. Sparkling in the sunlight, they glistened, refracting tiny rainbows of intense colours of orange, indigo, and yellow and more as the light penetrated through their icy cores.
Then suddenly, without fanfare or warning - it had gone.
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