The White Stuff, Kings Langley

After battling through the snow on the way home from work Sunday morning, detesting every second of the drive, it was only right to get out on Monday and actually enjoy this winter offering, taking a few shots along the way.

Disappointingly we only saw one snowman during our walk between Kings Langley and Abbots Langley. While it had some facial features it was a fairly paltry effort: but still more than we managed. The love of warm hands overriding the desire to mould an icy man.

A beautiful, eerie evening mist began to fall as we made our way across the fields, shrouding us in translucent calm.

 Although not in shot, I got to try out my new winter walking trousers-very much appreciated on a day like today. Fleece-lined to keep the cold at bay, they were however five inches too long for me. My dear husband who purchased them, was until now, unaware of the challenge faced by those not blessed with height. Trousers that fit those who barely exceed five feet are very difficult to come by- lesson learnt for him. The trusty sewing machine soon made them walk-worthy.

Here my husband demonstrates his best Sir Ranulph Fiennes impression, although I'm quite sure the wilds of the Arctic and the Hertfordshire marked paths are poles apart. 

As we made our way down the valley back home, the sky seemed to split carving our view into fading pinky hues to the west and looming darkness to the east. The moon starting to make an appearance from the mist as a plane jets off to track down the sun.

Cardingmill Valley, Shropshire