some real snowfall early this morning
no wind and very light powdery snow which settled on every little leaf and twig.
the birds are getting through a lot of peanuts and fat balls. I have great tits, long-tailed tits, coal tits and blue tits, but no sign of the marsh tits who were visiting a few weeks ago. the finches are doing quite a lot of bullying, particularly the greenfinches. this morning there was a thrush hanging around – I don’t know if he was hoovering up what the acrobatic little birds are dropping. there is the obligatory robin too, and a blackbird, but all the berries have gone from the garden, so I don’t see much of him.
lots of rabbit footprints in the lane
and some leading to a hole – you can see that someone has been in and out.
more rabbit prints in the big field
and hare prints leading off into the mist
plenty of pheasant prints too. all the prints are fuzzy with powder and the deeper fall of snow. yesterday there were some beautiful clear prints in the thin layer of fresh snow – including badger – but I didn’t have my camera.
a hogweed skeleton makes a snow flower.
up above the sky was clear and blue, but a thin layer of fog obscured the distance on the ground.
two clear fox prints must have been very recent, and he or she must have paused to make such a definite mark.
a hare had traversed the field from the wood.
all along the woodshore the hazels still have not relinquished their leaves.
delicate grass heads catch the snow and make more pretty ice-flowers.
this puddle must have been melted and then the snow has melted into it more.
a really graphic snow picture
in the green lane the oak trees are smothered in cobwebs of snow. a little powder blew off them as if it was still snowing.
Tilda’s beard and long hair all fluffed up with snow and frost
the Clip street oaks as always making a beautiful picture, a bit misty with the fog.
we walked through the big meadow where Tilda had a fine old time galloping up and down in pursuit of imaginary prey.
the snow still lay on every single branch twig and leaf.
I found some odd footprints and then this tiny frog about two inches long, barely able to move. I thought he would do better under the snow and in the bottom of a grass tussock; I hope he survives.
Sal and I plodded through the long grass and snow, about eight inches deep here, while Tilda zoomed up and down.
just a clump of grass, transformed into something quite strange by the snow.
and our village pond, surrounded by pretty sculptures, its water only half frozen over.