Early Sunday morning, the snow had settled, compact onto the London ground. It was pure, white, untouched. So I bundled up, grabbed my camera and walked across the street to a Wintery white Wimbledon Common.
White cloaked branches, stillness.
A silence swept through the woods, the occasional walkers passing by with a morning nod.
Remnants of Autumn, seasons confused.
A bit slippery for cycling…
…but some were determined to try!
And as the morning inched on, the screams and squeals of happy children rang out through the trees.
They had found a nice hill for sledding (or sledging as they say over here…).
Even the parents were enjoying themselves.
And the dogs…
Snowmen in every size and shaped popped up across the common.
Some still in progress.
And one with snow arms instead of branches.
Families took the opportunity to have a day out together.
But parts of the common were sleek, white and empty.
This man was chopping wood on his fancy machine and I thought how nice it would be to have a fireplace.
The windmill nearly blended in with the pale white sky.
And the fields stretched on, hazy white.
Snow gathered in all of nature’s nooks and crannies.
Parts of the common were already Spring green.
Crows stood on branches with cold feet.
Waiting for food…
I walked by one of the lakes, not quite frozen, but slushy with a hard enough surface that the birds could walk across.
Swans sat on the edge, hopefully with some thick feathers…
I love the magic of snow, its power of transformation.
What did you get up on the Sunday Snow Day?