Snow a foot deep, fine snow driving horizontally on a south wind, snow flying level through every crack and under the eaves into the roof. A layer of ice under the snow on the roads. “Nobbut a lassie” can get the car up the hill between farms. The milk lorries gave it up some days ago. Severe frost has abated, but not before the water pipes of the district had frozen. A collection of Sunday joints has been brought to be cooked on the Aga, and on the boiler are potatoes, carrots and fish waste for poultry. The first of our Clun lambs arrived last night; no need for shepherd, they are a strong pushing couple. I am hoping the snow may have protected plants, but there was little when frost was at its worst. I unearthed a bag of cider fruit that had been picked up late to get the apples out of the way of stock. Blackbirds have been glad of it and other birds too, as all berries are finished; thrushes have been busy in the hollies. I hang up bones for tits, and there seem to be a lot of wrens around the elm boles. One blue tit has made several attempts to get something from a small blackened little cluster of grapes on a vine that hangs over my window; he can make nothing of it, but each time I have to go and fetch him something eatable.