Yesterday we woke up to more snow, and a telephone call sadly postponing our eagerly awaited plans.
The garden slumbered peacefully beneath its winter blanket, and even the building debris was transformed into an undulating landscape that almost fooled the eye. We wrapped up warmly, donned our wellies and sought consolation outside.
We walked down the lane away from the village; past the ivy man, who stood shivering in the sun.
Down past the old derelict barn,
besides which we peeked down to the valley floor far below us, where the river snakes slowly along the flood plain.
It looked perfect with its smooth new coat of snow.
We carried on along the lane, which twists sharply and drops down to meet the river at an old stone bridge, where I took photographs of the hoar frost just a few weeks’ ago. Here we turned off the road and struck out along a footpath along the river bank, to follow its progress back along the valley floor to the village.
The snow was perfect; deep and crisp (and even!). I loved that fresh crunch as we walked across its untouched surface.
With the steep slope running back to the road high above us, it felt more like a ski resort than our “back garden”.
Despite the clear skies and warm sunshine, the air temperature remained several degrees below freezing as we walked briskly along, with eyes full of wonder at the wintry spectacle around us.
Familiar landmarks appeared as we drew closer to our village ahead; while our house was hidden from view by the swell of the hill that rises up from the valley to the bottom of the garden, we caught glimpses of nearby rooftops and farm buildings high on the hills.
It looked like there have been some very busy moles at work down here: their hills looked comical beneath the snow.
Here the slope eased back up to meet the lane to the village about halfway down, and we left the river behind and continued into the village to collect our newspaper. The village was picture postcard pretty in its seasonal coat.
The weather had brought everybody out. We saw some neighbours walking their dog around the village, and stopped to chat to several other friends as everybody was admiring the snow, or shovelling it from their paths and driveways. There was a wonderful feeling of camaraderie in the air.
We climbed back up the hill, homeward bound and light of step (but grateful for the warmth of the stoves that greeted us).
An amazing winter walk. Sometimes we cannot quite believe how lucky we are to live here.
I have tried to limit the pictures on here to keep this post a manageable length, but shall upload them and more on to flickr as soon as I have the opportunity. In the meantime, there is much to do here and our fingers are firmly crossed that yesterday’s delayed plans shall instead come to fruition this afternoon.