I ventured out for a short walk this morning, as although the snow was falling it is due to rain later and as I write, there is a steady, wet spattering as it slowly melts and drips from the cottage roof. So off up the hill I went, with my camera.
It isn't unheard of to get snow in March but it is odd to see the cheery yellow daffodil heads bent under the weight of their new white bonnets and the surrounding farmland resembling a Christmas scene.
I only noticed the other day that the trees and hedgerows were just - barely - starting to acquire the warmer flush of colour that precedes new shoots and growth, however today they were stark silhouettes, with not a hint of Spring about them.
I walked up to my usual gate, exchanging a cheery wave and hello with a father and his two children, who were playing with a sled. There was no sign of the Wrekin, which is usually plain in sight here.
Feeling a little damp and chilled, I headed home, with the comforting sight of my little cottage waiting for me and the prospect of another day of working in the warmth of my bed.
