Snow used to be expected every winter when I was young. It would settle and remain on the ground, rooftops and tree branches for days, sometimes weeks. Not any longer. Now it is a luxury. One wonders at its prettiness as it it falls and begins to cover the ground. Sad to say this morning's snow has already melted.
A woman with a fur cape over her head stands with her back to the trunk of a tree. Is she just watching the snow flakes drifting down? Apart from ourselves, there seems to be no one else in the Grove at the moment. Then a small figure appears and runs across the grass. The woman is playing hide and seek with her son.
There are a lot of blackbirds about this year. Today I count six in a space no bigger that one half of a tennis court.