Snow Pony

Just back from the yard, where Max and I gazed out of his window together at the white, silent scene, and watched the last of the fluffy wet flakes land and settle.

It's not proper snow. It's not the kind that will settle for any length or that one can do anything with. It's not "packing" snow, I said to the Ent this morning. "What's packing snow?" Explained that packing snow is the kind that makes snowballs and snowmen. This is a wet snow blanket, but even so, for now our little corner of Hampshire has been transformed into fairy land.

Max seemed content to watch and have a play in his box with me. I spent ages just watching him eat his hay. I may go back later, but I don't expect we'll do anything today. The bridleways will be slippery and potentially full of giddy walkers. The lane to get to the bridleway will be treacherous, and the drivers on it, unaccustomed to driving on slush, will be lethal. The school will be boring and cold, and I am not tempted by it.

Max had another fine lone hack in Friday, and a nice long walk with the Ent yesterday, so today he can get his exercise trying to keep warm in his field.