The snow came a month ago, and hasn't left since. Instead it has been topped up with fresh falls, and the day before yesterday it snowed from 6pm until 2pm the following day. The snow has been feathery, powdery, light. It falls silently, softly, with a hiss as it lands on dry grasses and dead leaves. In the churchyard and the church car park and presumably the sheep fields behind the house (and the garden) it is eighteen inches deep, gently drifting, light as crystals, beautiful, pristine, impermanent. I have never seen so much snow.
Kington this morning was an empty town of alleyways and quiet lanes and dirty slush; misty distances and heavy skies. The road through the village is impassable in an ordinary car and we got a lift from Thomas the joiner. Even his Land Rover found it difficult.
Some pictures recently from the summer in New Zealand; it seems a long time since we have seen green. The landscape is monochrome, white fields and black trees and hedges, the skies grey and featureless.
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