Today's the first time for several weeks that I've had my feet on grass and ground - quite squelchy ground too - when I've walked from home. The snow is leaving behind an interesting legacy. Great table-top slabs of ice have been dumped on the banks of the burn that crosses the golf-course, still huge and ice-berg-ish. The ways and paths - here and on the lower, thawing hills - that have been used by people, dogs, or sheep during the freeze now lie, visually graded according to the popularity of their use by the packed lines of ice that remain on them. Desire lines are criss-crossing open ground, laying white lace against the green. Interestingly, they don't always take direct lines to their destinations.
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