Lonesome oak...

Another dark six o'clock start, another freezing cold winter morning scraping thick ice off the windscreen. As we arrived at the station there was a flush of pink in the east, which fleetingly darkened to the softest salmon, just as I had to go and pay for a train ticket, and without a camera to hand. By the time I arrived home the moment was over.

The rest of the day was again bitter and grey. Our walk round Castor Hanglands was unpleasantly cold in the easterly breeze, the land drained of colour and the woods silent, scarcely a bird moving apart from a solitary buzzard which glided over, vainly looking for a meal. Back home the garden was filled with birds - a constant scurrying of thirty to forty small feathery bodies, desperately trying to eat enough to stay alive.

Before dusk the snow started again. I usually love it but this time I just wanted to scream - ENOUGH!

PS If you want a smile, do look at yesterdays desperation backblip!!