Everywhere and snow where

A blanket of alabaster white flakes gently embraces the forest, from the high open heathland plateaus and ancient deciduous woodland, through  uniform lines of block planted larch and Lodge pole, through  the bog woodland which fringes lowland brooks, all is bedecked in winters powdery shawl.  The old enclosure, originally planted in 1700, planted with majestic mature Beech and Oak, the mother and father of the woods is quiet, little stirs and what does makes little noise, the snow acting as a muffle. I feel privileged to be out in the land, experiencing this winter wonder in all its glory, and eagerly drink in the atmosphere.  Occasionally wind rushes through the tall tree tops, creating eerie half audible sounds, as the wind too is dampened and suppressed by the snow falling and flakes smothering the crowns.  Flurries of powdery snow continue to fall, and blow about the woodland floor, adding to the covering which is slowly obscuring the definition of plants and features, homogenising the landscape.  In these conditions the world appears to move in slow motion. 

Even the Redrise Brook, usually bubbly and energetic, appeared slowed by the elements as it makes its passage through the confluence of heathland and woodland, maybe taking time to admire its surroundings as it travelled by.   Boggy land which characterises the interface of heath and woodland, has frozen hard, small trees appear trapped, as if caught on the move by surprise, when any water had solidified.  Into the wind, the snow bit hard on any exposed skin.  Deeper in the forest, further East, the snow deepened and the woods appeared like those depicted in Narnia.  Transit in this region became an adventure if undertaken in a car.  On the road through Mark Ash woods, a large track of ancient woodland, a car had left the road and rested in a ditch; with a push and a shove the vehicle rejoined the road and the occupants resumed their journey.  It would be good to get stuck out here today.