Snow in July ...

Just taking a break here in blogland from the depths of winter:

 

I've got a bit muddled with my trays of sorted clippings and appear to have lost some important bits altogether, so I thought I'd come here then return to the worktable with new eyes. And maybe find those elusive bits. In fact they might be under the table now I come to think of it.

Even worse, they might be underfoot.

 

So, the scene is St Nicholas's in Steventon. The time, Christmas. The protagonists, Jane and Cassandra Austen.

Their father was the vicar there. That's going to be him, at the church door.

 

I have taken a few liberties, as is my wont.

I mean, I don't think a dog would have been allowed into church for one thing. And the spire was added to the building years later, after the Steventon era of Jane. And I'm not religious enough to know whether Anglicans have what looks like it might be a midnight service.

As for Regency guardian angels ... 

But it's the atmosphere that counts, right?

It's going to be a really traditional Christmas card.

 

There's still a long way to go, but consider the initial stage:

I'm nearer the finish than the start.