A shower, for an hour, and everything stops. An inch of snow at most and the road is like sheet ice, threatening civilisation as we know it. The Scots and the Geordies have been accumulating piles of the stuff over the last week, and are of course brazen with how hard(y) they are.
It was very pretty (beautiful snow is God's way of apologising for the dull grey weather of Autumn) and with no wind, clung to every surface.
Saturday by contrast was cold and dry, with a hoar frost lasting until mid-morning, picking out the details of each leaf - in this case of Wild Cabbage.
The weekend got off to a good start as I opened the curtains to see not snow, but two Firecrests in the shrub just outside. The photo below is an entry in the "Worst Pic" competition, and is included merely to show my barber just how bright these birds are in comparison to Goldcrests.
Yes, my barber. Hands up all of you who have barbers who are keen birdwatchers? Makes a nice change of conversation from the usual. He keeps a pile of Birds magazines on the table, and it was lovely to see two young children looking through them and talking about the pictures.
Elsewhere, a couple of sociable chats were had at Sandwich Bay - these chats get everywhere.