Yes I know there are snowdrops aplenty but somehow their frail prettiness just makes the surrounding muddy ghastliness even more muddily ghastly and Mordor-like. I trudged along for about half a mile, with the growing expectation that at any moment I might see a dead hand protruding from the mud, or a bloated corpse floating downstream or jammed under a tree-trunk, and then thought sod it, and turned back, went home, put the telly on (Carry On at your Convenience - very edifying) and baked a ginger cake.
When will it start turning green, for God's sake?
Not the cake - the world. The world near where I live, i.e. the one that matters. Hereabouts, in other words. Don't call me small-minded - I feel bad enough already.
Wildlife seen included two goosanders on the river, a wren, and a heron sitting hunched, alone and miserable, in the middle of a horridly muddy field.
Thoughts: about the terrible and seemingly, probably, unavoidable damage one does as one slips and slides and stumbles and pushes one's way through life. It's impossible not to be aware of at least some of it.