And suddenly it’s spring!


Spring has suddenly sprung upon us! Just a few days back I was clad in thermal leggings, jeans, wool sweater, and a down coat taking photos of frozen lakes. Now here I am today in a long sleeved T shirt digging up the nettle roots and bricks holding my wrecked polytunnel cover in the ground and thinking about seed planting! It went from  – 4 to 9 deg. in one day and seems to be sustaining it’s temperatures. The mind is dizzied! Hope I can keep up!


Ice patterns by Siberian winds.


Exausted but happy after a two hour snow walk capturing a bunch of gorgeous artwork care of the Siberian winds invading London. IMG_0012

Frozen lake with frosted snow.


Trees from the old flooded gravel pits emurgingthrough the ice – surreal! IMG_0031

Path between one of the lakes and the river (the only thing not frozen).IMG_0037

That’s not land but frozen water! IMG_0058

The wind tried its hand at sculpture here (notice the icycle sculpture formed on the branch hanging from the weir.) IMG_0060

The river resisting all attempts at transformation.IMG_0072

Farm at the canals side busily wheeling supplies – no animals out today!IMG_0083

Boats on the Grand Union Canal. The ice was melted in little circles around them – at – 4 deg. doubtless they had the heating full on!IMG_0088

No heating on this boat!

Light, water, trees and the occassional human, my idea of heaven.


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My new favourite walk, that has enticed me to treck three miles around the furthest lake three days in a row to get these shots. (first day I discovered it, second I brought my camera only to discover it was out of battery lol! Today perfect!) The river runs alongside on one side of the lake. I took 98 photos in all (so many gorgeous views!) these are some of my favourites.

Lifegiving Moments.


Still and quiet, the whispers drift towards me, borne on placid lake waters.

Sunlit glimmers, pearlized soft blue and pink waters are picture framed in the squared wood lookout of the old bird watcher’s hide. Breathless, I gaze enthralled, the intense beauty unreal.

Startled I turn. I’m not alone. Joined by an old man, his face weathered as the wood beams. We speak in quiet tones of heron and egret, of terns and the ever-present grebe. We don’t look at each other as we speak, our gazes entrapped by still water, the play of light, and the gliding, skimming shapes of birds.

We speak of grandchildren, of I pads and smart phones, of the few still able to partake of the immense beauty of such golden moments.