Coming, as I do, from the lowlands of the country (Lincolnshire) where the land is all flat, the horizons are far away and there is no hill in sight (Lincoln Cathedral is built on one of the few hills and is therefore visible for miles around), I still find it strange that whichever way I look the land rises up and the view is limited.
This does however lead to an interesting phenomenon, which I still marvel at - and that is the 'snow line'. The forecasters will say that there will be snow above, say, six hundred feet. Our farm is six hundred feet ASL and quite often I will look at the hill leading out of our village and there it will be. Straight across the middle of a field will be a line - below it green grass, above it snow.
This was so when we went down to our Feed Merchants one morning this week. Water was lying everywhere in the fields and many of the roads were flooded - perhaps two or three inches of water running across the road where a beck was overflowing. There at East Witton Fell was the snow line; I tried to capture it from the moving car. It is not a good photograph but you should get the general idea.
And, speaking of snow, wonderful news about Lizzie Yarnold and her winning of the Gold Medal at the Winter Olympics. We have never enough snow here on a regular basis to make us shine at the Winter Olympics but how wonderful to see a young woman with such dedication that she has, literally, devoted the last five years or so to winning the Skeleton. We watched her do it - it looked absolutely terrifying - 85 miles an hour, head on. And she was so cool about it afterwards. I do so admire that kind of dedication.
Water lies in all our fields. The sheep do not seem to mind; they eat their way round the puddles, huddle up against a wall when the wind blows too strongly. But of course, they have a warm woolly coat - us lesser mortals huddle up against the fire and just wait for the first signs of Spring - she has deserted us again, hasn't she?