Something we rarely ever get is snow at Christmas, covering the landscape in its soft blanket of whiteness; it stops the traffic, stops the world for a while and you can retreat into your own home the outside at bay for the time being. Children and dogs delight in it, the soft crunch as it gives beneath your feet, the trees starkly outlined against a blue sky.
The images I have captured of it a couple of years ago shows it at dawn as we got up and photographed the stones round Avebury, the night before the snow we had stood by the great Cove stones with the full moon shining brightly above, its landscape etched on its surface.
For a time Avebury was deserted that cold early morning, but then people started to arrive and photograph the stones for it was such an unusual thing to happen. December is a month of many memories for me, birthdays for a start - Matildas' tomorrow, and snow in December is something I miss, though spending many a christmas in Switzerland where the snow is as predictable as rain in England, and snow is heralded by putting snow chains on the car to stop it slithering on the steep bends down to Vevey.