Winter has arrived.

One day the last few gilded leaves are hanging in the birch trees, and then the snow comes. Overnight the world changes. A carpet of silent white envelops the woods and reshapes the buildings in its anonymous folds. Sparkling crystals fan out across the windows, tiny fragments of infinity.

Winter, and with it a healthy chill and a hint of Christmas on the way. It's so nice, but at the same time I know it's here until March - and by then I'll be gasping for Spring. By all accounts it will be gone after the weekend - but the thought is there.