Sudden, Rimed, Ridgelines
Beside me, as I write, the sun is up and warming the world. The roof of the workshop to my left, dusted with fresh snow overnight, is now displaying a perfect shadow play, the church and gravestones sheltering the centimetre of snow, protected from the heat of the sun, as the other parts melt rapidly, not so much dripping as flowing.
The snow was surprising. It had not been forecast, so opening the shutters and seeing the woods around us iced with rime and flake was an unexpected pleasure. As the sun rose over the mountain to our east, the trees shed their coating, a perfect line of naked branches, slipping further down into the valley as I watched.