I didn't take a photograph of the frozen rosebuds, but I did take this pic of mudurn art on yesterday's early morning walk. Crashing through thin ice glazing, my boots plunged into deep, cold mud puddles that oozed over my ankles. It was a great walk- the sun was really bright and there weren't too many people around. There were so many little birds in the bushes tweeting away that I didn't care that I didn't have any in my hands; it was worth it.
Every stage of the year has shone a new light on the same walks; there is so much to see that I never even knew existed before the pandemic narrowed everyone's horizons. I can set off thinking that I'm going to see the same old scenery but everything will have changed, even the birdscape. I was thinking back about the Egyptian Geese and their fantastic parenting skills, raising six goslings out of eleven, when lots of the ducks lost entire flotillas of ducklings to the marauding fox. And Mr and Mrs White Goose!
I've been working, not walking today, and will be doing the same tomorrow. Next walk will be Wednesday. I hope it doesn't rain.