Spring snow

Well, my dears, dear old Blighty is at the mercy of its weather with a blast from the east dropping temperatures once more. Snow flurries have abound since Saturday morning, with a wind chill reported at -8. Needless to say dear souls, the trusty log burner has been keeping our little home toasty and warm. Doth seem fair strange that on Friday evening, the walk to my carriage from my professional toil was undertaken in a long sleeved inner garment, minus one's coat and the weekend has seen the return of a hat, scarf and gloves if any length of time were to be spent out doors. Where would we British be without our favourite topic of conversation.

This morn, we woke to that ethereal light and calm that belies a fresh coating of snow. There to behold set out before our eyes was some three inches of fine powdery snow. Thankfully our small country lane appeared readily traversable, thus ensuring our Sunday routine unchanged. We have spent a quiet day pottering about and this afternoon I did venture forth, clad in my winter garments and a fine sturdy pair of Wellington boots, to take the air. My dears it was most refreshing, with the snow prettily falling around me as I trod most happily through the lanes with ne'er another soul to see. 'Twas calm and quiet affording one the opportunity to drink in the beauty of the scenery, admire the wildlife, and watch the sheep as they did gather about their food troughs. Such resilient creatures, clad so warmly in their fleeces. Such sound endorsements for the use of pure wool, my dears, one cannot stress.

Much to our delight we were visited this afternoon by a delightful creature, tempted by the large, bright orange rose hips of the rose upon the terrace. One had commented to the male guardian that a little furry creature had whisked across the back hedge line, and we rose from the chairs in which we sat all the better to espy it when, there, not six feet from patio doors, sat a squirrel, balancing upon the  rose trellis and munching upon a large orange rose hip. My dears, he was most unfazed by our gaze, and sat there until he had completed his snack, his large furry tail lay up on his back. Once his repast was completed, he clambered down and dove in to the snow head first, his furry tail aloft, not once but twice, to retrieve  a morsel of some sort and then dashed off into the orchard, leaping from tree to tree. What a spectacular sight he did make. Later, we were visited by Cedric once more to ensure no morsel was left undiscovered before he retired for the night. We have ensured the feeders are well replenished before we battened down the hatches for the night, for the birds and wildlife we are fortunate to receive on our small estate give us great joy.