It was minus 8 this morning.

The Feast Day of Saint Offa of Essex.
I am forever grateful the boiler is working. Without warmth, the wretched reality would be much more unbearable.
I have not ventured far but try to keep the water refreshed and birds seem not to eat much from the garden here. The snow remains on some roofs visible from indoors. Pendle Hill is snow capped. The blip is a solid piece of ice from yesterday.
I hope Maria my daughter has a safe journey if she decides to drive home. The dear one has a kind way of looking at life.
Take good care all.