It has been a grey, dismal January and cold with it. Not walking or cycling weather really. But when the sun has made a rare appearance, we too have emerged blinking, like pale grubs. Shall we wander down this mossy path and climb up to the fields beyond? 
Dazzling blue skies and a trio of buzzards mewling as they surf the thermals. We head towards the estate farm and admire, yet again, the old stone barn which to my mind would make a marvellous studio.
Although the landscape is still bleak, the sun draws out rich hues and the clear, cold air sharpens outlines.
If you look closely, some foliage is 'warming up' as new bark and buds push through and amid the aqua greys and sombre tertiaries, bright mustards and warm pinks glow. Nestling in the roots of the bare hedgerows, tiny snowdrops shudder and tremble in the wind.
It is as if the seasons are poised on a cusp; there is, despite the chill, a feeling of anticipation and hope.
It's been over a month since I went more than two miles from the village, thanks to my workload, Christmas and the snow. I dutifully chained myself to my work desk again on Monday, stifling - not very successfully - a heavy sigh as Andy took the motorbike over to our new walk, Akerman Street at Eastleach, to take photos. I hate being left behind. But later he returned and told me to grab my coat and helmet; the sun was out and it was a beautiful day. Work or no work, I grabbed my gear and was taken on a whistle stop tour of our patch looking at its most glorious in its winter colours. First we went to the top of the biggest hill, where we can survey our kingdom, looking towards the west. The views are vast and wide, and we were on top of the world, spotting the dear familiar landmarks of far off lanes and villages. 
On to Swinbrook, most pretty of West Oxfordshire villages, where the Windrush has surged over its banks into the flood fields, providing small lakes for wild fowl. 
A bright St George's Cross, the flag of England, flaps cheerily from the little church where I have taken many photos - but that is another story for another day. 
Taking the bike down narrow, twisting lanes, we stopped every so often simply to absorb the views, cold, steely flood water reflecting the soft, apricot light.
Another flood plain and an old farmhouse being renovated -
After so many weeks of the same scenery, it was breathtaking to be out and about.
One solitary, stately swan enjoying a temporary paddling pool.
Time to make tracks for home and head on up the winding lane.
As the dying sun began to steal what little warmth there had been, there was a last stop off to capture a solitary beech clump, which stands near Shipton Barrow, just seen in the back ground. Sadly on private ground, so no exploring - just a final souvenir snap of a wonderful tour of our part of the Cotswolds.
