No fresh snow fell overnight, though all night long the tireless winds blew about what was already on our hilltop.
This morning, I took advantage of the temporary truce to explore our garden gently.
I was accompanied by two very curious cats, for whom this is their first encounter with snow. Where it was deepest, they moved by springing on all four paws simultaneously, surprisingly quickly; while on the shallower areas they resumed a more natural gait, albeit with quite a bit of slipping and sliding. Faith made constant little mews as she leapt around the garden, utterly perplexed by this white stuff.
I uncovered the daffodil heads as best I could, freeing them from the snow that had bent them face down upon the ground. Those that are still in bud remain upright and carefree, but the early flowers seem rather taken aback by this assault.
Around the garden, the snow had been wind-sculpted on the fences and woodstores, and on cabbages and stalks of sprouts. The rows of garlic just peeked through their blanket.
Each post and gate wore a thick crust of snow on the windward side. Before we could venture further afield once more, the leaden skies advanced again and the snowfall resumed, while we turned back to warm ourselves by the fire and wait for a gap in the weather.