Snow glow

 

Geoff loves the snow so much he glows.

Another snowy walk

 

I was surprised to see how much snow had survived out in the forest. I wasn't expecting anything like this, snow still covers much of the open ground. The day is clear and cold, it feels colder than yesterday, and the snow is dry and crisp. Where there's not snow there's ice, it's horrible under foot, difficult walking. Worth it though, another day of snow.

Narnia

The forest was so quiet, so still, the stands were holding their breath. The woodland was the winter woodland of stories, Mr. Tumnus could've appeared at any moment and I wouldn't have been too surprised. Less than two hours after it had started the snow has all but stopped. A transient beauty, made more beautiful for it.

Geoff in a snowy scene

 

I like this shot of Geoff in a snowy scene.

Snow way, man.

As I sat drinking my morning coffee listening to the sound of rain, it was still dark outside. I wasn't looking forward to this mornings walk. I set off from Anderwood with a sigh, expecting a wet walk, though it wasn't rain that fell but snow! Oh, huzzah. The prevailing wet had meet the cold, and snow was their progeny, It was coming down at a fair rate, and settling too. We don't often get snow in these parts, and even when we do it doesn't last. So you've got to make the most of it. The walking was wonderful, the forest was quickly being transformed into a magical winter wonderland. When it snows the timeless child in you steps to the fore. Everything felt lighter. I felt an deep calm come over me as we walked through the falling snow, and it felt so good. I could've wandered the stands all day.

Snow way

Snow way, man. Rarer than hens teeth or rocking horse shit, since I was a child snow in these parts has almost become a thing of legend. Not that it was ever an annual, but we would get heavy snow quite regularly. Looking back through my blog the last good show of snow appears to have been Imbolc back in 2019. When it snows proper though, the forest stands are transformed into a wonderland surpassing even that of Narnia. Alas this morning was merely a dusting, and then only on the occasional stump or prone trunk. Still. 

Clay Hill Bottom

I was out in the forest early this morning, wandering through Clay Hill Bottom.  A dusting of very light snow covered the heathland, any exposed water had a solid crust and a piercing wind scoured the undulating landscape. Although the ponies looked unmoved as they stood in defiance of the elements, though this can be a harsh and unforgiving environment, and they do well to survive unaided. Man, it was cold, bloody cold.

Snow way!

So, the snow's returned, this time with more force than before, although I think with equal transience. At 6am the snow was falling heavily, creating a white out wonderland. Though by the time I ventured out into the forest about 9am, the snow had stopped and already begun to dissipate.  That said, it still looked lovely. As I wend my way through the stands, gusts of wind dislodged the fine snow from the high boughs, causing cascading flurries to swirl in a passing blizzard. The forest is always magical, though the addition of snow, so rare, adds another dimension to the wonder. As I though, the snow had no longevity, and by the time I left the forest the boughs were for the most part clear of snow and a general thaw was noticeable. Good walking.

Opportunity knocks

When opportunity knocks it's silly not to take it. Many bush-craft skills are reasonably easy to perform with practice, though as is the nature of practice, practice is usually done under the right conditions with all the resources prepared to hand. The thing is, nature's not really like that,  the conditions can vary wildly and resources may require sourcing and preparing. That's why I believe it's always worthwhile practicing in less favourable conditions. It took about 15 minutes to gather the resources I required; a good handful of last seasons bracken, dried off in my trouser pocket, a handful of papery Silver Birch bark, a handful of dry needles and a bundle of dead Silver Birch twigs graded into three groups. I found a sheltered spot in a closely planted juvenile conifer plantation on the edge of Burley Old, and through proper preparation and execution in under 5 minutes from putting my bag down the birch bark had caught a spark and I had a fire going. I was pleased, as the last couple of fires I'd tried were slow and laborious to get going due to complacency on my part, slack perpetration and general stupidity. It was nice to sit out in the snowy forest and get a little fire on the go. I have to say, it's a lot easier raising a fire snowy conditions than it is when it's wet, most of the materials are still quite dry.

Melt

The forest was sodden today, as the melting snow transformed into a filigree of stream-lettes all eager to find their way of the land and back to the sea. In the short time I was out walking (only walked 5 miles) Dockens Water had risen 30 cm or more. Another couple of hours and I'd imagine (knowing the stream/bridge) that the bridge would have been submerged.

Iced

It didn't snow last night, nor did it rain, it was something in-between, though not sleet, something like tiny tiny hail or tiny flecks of ice. Whatever they were were so tiny that they made no impression on the snow, none of that stippling you get when it rains or sleets on snow. By the morning every outside surface was encrusted in a hard clear icy glaze a few millimetres thick, it was quite a sight. It was a resilient ice coating too, I watch as one of our cats (Mr Fluff), a fair sized one, walked across the snowy lawn without leaving a mark in the snow. It was treacherous to walk on though, any compacted surface was lubricious, and over covered snow it was like walking across a slick Crème brûlée top, your feet slid all over as you broke through. Interesting weather, interesting day.

Spring

According to the meteorological calendar, Spring may have sprung, though winter's either unaware or just being awkward, because today was as winter as winter could get.  And so, so, cold, man.  It snowed all day, very fine snow, snow which spent quite a lot of time being swept back into the air and swirled by constant chilly blasts, and even though the snow was constant, it isn't lying that deep. Being so light, and the winds so blowy, the snow's not been settling or staying on the shrubs and bushes, consequently most of the common looks snow free on the surface. Though amongst the stands, where the winds were reduced, some snow held tentative hold on the branches. Still, it's been a weird snowy day, intense and constant, though at the same time ephemeral and lacking something in substance. Bloody cold, mind. 

Stop!

That's it, it's snowing, everything has to stop. We must a never ending source of amusement and bemusement to the world. A country that obsesses about the weather, constantly talking about it, though when it comes it's still a surprise and we can't deal with it, being ill equipped and ill prepared. That's Britain over though, isn't it. A country that puffs it's chest and talks the talk, though there's nothing there to substantiate it, and when it comes to walking the walk, all we've got are excuses and a note from our Mum. Rule Britannia, and all that. 

A dusting

That's all be got today, a dusting. As we journeyed out to the woods you could see the snow, which had been falling in large flakes and had formed a good covering layer over everything, melt away as the Sun flooded through the clouds. This was all that was left by the time we reached Brinken Wood.