The countryside around Charlton Down this April is a landscape of rolling hills covered by a brightly coloured patchwork of flowering oilseed rape fields contrasting with spring wheat, each patch separated from the next by boundaries of ancient field hedgerows and trees with branches just springing into life.
Freezing fog has lately covered all the vegetation in my village with a transparent icy coat bearing fringes of needle-like crystals. As the sun comes out to burn off the mist, the rising temperature begins to melt this hoar frost. As I walked along beside tall beech trees on one such frosty morning, an unexpected heavy rain of icy water began to fall from the thawing ice in the highest boughs, cascading down through the understorey of saplings where drops accumulated on the twigs and leaves, shining like diamonds in the low-slanting winter sun. Difficult to capture with the camera the brilliance of the eye-dazzling effect of reflections from the melt water rain and droplets.
A walk in very mixed January weather along muddy lanes, through arable countryside with freshly ploughed and green planted fields divided by clipped hedges. Rain and hail from dark clouded skies, and occasional shafts of sunlight, slant over low rolling hills trimmed by bare-branched trees. The local river full to the brim and flowing fast with turbulent waters, escaping into channels that once fed the old mill and water meadows. White fleeced sheep with pink noses feed near the old derelict barn.