So, this was how deep it got, at least.
We fed the birds, as usual. The small ones, the sparrows, robins, tits and dunnocks came, of course, but then there was this thug. A young blackbird, still mottled and grey-brown, who was determined to have the whole table to itself, and must have expended as much energy chasing the other birds off as it consumed in the food it was eating. We developed quite a dislike for it; the smaller birds can share and co-operate, why couldn't this one? (As you may note, we have no qualms about anthropomorphism...)
Young Ludovic, who has come to live in Marie's and Pierre's old house, with his very nice girlfriend and lovely border collie, had a most impressive piece of snow-clearing kit; a mini push-along tractor, like a converted rotivator. He works for the commune, mind, so he probably gets all the best motoculture equipment.
Victor's motley collection of useful stuff, standing out against the snow: chicken shed and run, an old privy, half a cider barrel, sticks and stakes, woodpile and corrugated, a weathercock on a pole, a row of leeks...
Snow on his barn roof.
Later in the day, we got out for a walk.
Though the snow was thick on the banks and fields, the roads were quite clear, and Mol didn't pick up pom-poms till we were nearly home.