My new rotary clothes dryer and the washing lines were decorated with snow.
The chain link fence has never been blanketed by snow before. It just shows you how much there was of it, and which way the wind blew as the snow fell and settled.
This view was not anyway like I had ever seen it; it was like looking at a scene through white ribbons and cream lace.
The Leylandii trees in the neighbouring garden were dressed up to impress.
Usually when the boat is in dry dock its hull is surrounded with the various green shades of grass. Yesterday it was up to its trailer hubs in the white stuff.
The white fluffy balls of snow holding on to the failed loops of the goal net were like enormous clumps of white bog cotton.
It looked as if the leaves of this hedge were being protected by the snow blanket on the branches.
I often walk past Charlie's field, rarely is it carpeted in such thick snow as this. Bright and sunny as the day was, it was too cold for the ewes and their little lambs to make an appearance.
The gnarled arched tangle of trees of Taylor's path, attired in their white sleeves, were charmingly transformed. It was a shame to spoil the virgin snow carpet with my footprints. As I stood there, and as if to agree, soft warning snow pads tumbled onto me and my camera.
By early evening most of the snow scape had disappeared, melted by the sun, though, there were signs it had existed. Some patches of snow remained at the edges of gardens and in fields; car parks that had been cleared still had one or two soft piles of grubby snow at their corners. At nightfall it rained. Today, the bright and magical covering was just a memory... and my pictures are a visual reminder.
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