Surrey, March 4

Hoar frost fell heavily in the early morning – it came from the south in a mist that clouded the moon; the rough cocksfoot and spear grass along the lane ditches bent over as with a light fall of snow. Cattle turned on to the pasture land smelt the air and stopped to low; when, a little later, the horses were set, some to the harrow and some to the drill, they shivered down their quarters; the labourers at each turn of the field swung their arms and called cheerily. The sound carried a long way; it roused an old sheep-dog in his kennel, and presently the ducks called to each other while they waddled about the farmyard.

Country diary: Hurt Wood, Surrey Hills Read more

In another hour all was changed. A hedge bank near the bottom of the down shone yellow with buttercups blooming in a mass, drops of water sparkled on the blackthorn whose long stems, dried by the sun, were of the colour of ripe plums; chaffinches crested their heads and sang from the lower boughs of budded fruit trees, a tomtit chased hedge sparrows away into a field. Soon the ridge along the great down was very quiet; not so much as a lark could be seen in the air; only a flock of black-faced sheep moving steadily eastward as they fed.