Four miles of snow

On my own in this freezing weather, as poor Andy is having to sleep over at work - impossible to get the motorbike out of the ungritted village, or even to the end of our lane without dropping it. What I needed was an afternoon's walking. Starting up at the allotments again, but turning the other way. This is a new route to me; the last time I tried this was a few years back and it wasn't even signed. Needless to say I got a little lost and inadvertently trespassed, so I haven't bothered with it since.

Familiar terrain becomes a fresh landscape when you can see a different aspect to it. Normally I would be walking along the road, between those houses.

At least the snow made it obvious where I was supposed to go - the paths are littered with spoor, some of them dog, but also dainty bird prints and bunny hops - the four feet kept so close together as Brer Rabbit landed, that it resembles a large paw print.

Such a clean, clear day and the stillness that intense cold brings.

I headed up towards the woods, to begin the turning of the circle.

The sun began to set, breaking through a copse of looming conifers.

Now I had to venture down what is normally a mired track. I was hoping the mud would have frozen solid - it had, though I had to pick my way carefully. There were some ominous cracks and squelches as I hopped from clod to snow capped clod.

Further on, the hedge trimmers were out - farming takes no holiday.

I turned just in time to catch sight of -

- dithering deer. With a trimmer roaring away either side of them and myself at the top of the field, they hopped about, trying to decide which way to flee, before skipping away to the only unoccupied area.

As the sun disappeared, my way home was followed by a pale sickle moon, and I was surprised to find I had been out for three hours, although my walk was only just over four miles. A splendid way of whiling away a solitary winter's afternoon.