Good Friday

Out of the bosom of the Air, Out of the cloud-folds of her garments shaken, Over the woodlands brown and bare, Over the harvest-fields forsaken, Silent, and soft, and slow Descends the snow.

(Henry Wadsworth Longfellow)

Having over-slept and missed the church service I intended to go to I was delighted when my friend Sheila rang and announced her intention to take me out for lunch. It was a lovely sunny day and we headed for our favourite cafe in Wolsingham, where we had scrummy soup and chunky chips!

Instead of going straight home we decided on a country drive and ended up here in the hills above Stanhope (not far from here). What a difference a few vertical metres can make. We couldn't believe how much snow there was! The drifted/ heaped snow along the roadside was higher than the car in places and some road signs were almost covered. Thank goodness it isn't like that down here! Although it still feels as cold as ice ...