Up the green lane, now white and the trees were etched with white thorns, to the top of the hill where the snow crunched under our feet and all around the world sang like a winter music box. Lapwings flew up from cold fields crying their pee-whit call and flashing white wings against snow.
Even as we walked a cold grey fog spread over the land. Pockets of sunshine still glinted through in the black and white world where ginger glows bright.
We found delicate trails of fox prints written on the paths, and we wrote our prints into the path for others to find.
Elmo jumped from rock to distant rock, flying cat.
In the distance Ramsey Island rose up from a slate grey sea. We sat for a while and listened, then walked home to the warm with the snow crystals singing beneath our cold paws.
Back home we curled again in the warm and outside the snow began to fall and tumble from the sky in heavy flakes.