Snow not only on the panorama of fells but on Scout Scar. The face of stone walls patterned with snow, trees outlined in snow. But already the drip, drip, drip of a rapid thaw tells that it won't last.
The enticement of snow is in the air and everyone might head for The Mushroom Shelter and look at landscape transformed by snow but the mushroom is in melt-down. The sun thaws snow on the domed roof of the shelter and it drips onto the seat which is a slop of melting snow and water.
I'm always attracted to the seed-head of wood-sage whose structure shows best against snow. Snow melts to transparency and melts away, leaving the stems glistening wet.
Snow has gone from the trees, from the face of stone walls but there's a crunch of ice underfoot and next morning a weather forecast of ice-hazard.
I go in search of winter thrush, always on the qui vive, alert. And so often they're not where I hope they'll be. This morning there was a mixed flock, fieldfare, redwing, starlings in the tree tops before Kendal Parish Church where we were come to see the charity Christmas trees. And the sun shone on the birds. And a wee boy with a magic light wand and a merry hat brought light to rival the Christmas trees.