Wild Places

In The Wild Places Robert Macfarlane writes of a man who spent years - like twenty - studying how sand moves. Today the snow blew in and as I walked I saw how it patterned every surface uniquely. Snow on beech hedges and on holly leaves, snow on laurel and broken grass piercing fresh snow. I watched snow falling on cedars, given special meaning as it is a favourite book, film and audio read of mine, watched snow melting on the tips of hawthorn and felt soft clumps fall from tall pines and brush my shoulder. I was keeping a close eye on the snow because our new Pekin trio arrived at the weekend and they have gone free range for the first time. Finding their way around the garden and in and out of their house was tricky enough before the world turned white. Luckily we  were offered a young cockerel who the hens rely on completely as a compass and guide. It is really funny to watch as the little hens almost fall over themselves to stay as close to him as possible. The snow fell steadily from early morning until late afternoon and tonight sound is muffled by it. Perfect peace.