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AS THE LANE is so icy, we take the path that leads behind the terrace of old cottages to follow the stream up into the wood. There are long mullioned windows upstairs on the south-west facing side of the cottages, in stark contrast to the tiny windows, most of them now bricked-up, on the north-east side, facing the lane. The mullions are a sign that, from around about 1650, these were weavers' cottages. The daylight was essential for the operation of the looms.
It's a holiday week and things are fairly quiet in the surrounding countryside, but walk along the path beside the willows and it's quieter still. Apart from the occasional plane passing over the predominant noise is that of the stream flowing by. There's a rare sense of peace here.
Where the sun can't reach it, the hoar frost has lasted for days. In places it is like a coating of tiny grains over grass and bramble leaves.
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The silted-up bed of an old mill dam upstream is today a wilderness of willows. At the moment, at its winter level, the stream divides to flow along either side of the wild marshy area.
Oyster Mushroom, on deciduous stumps and logs, doesn't seem to have been affected by the frost. A greasy looking little brown toadstool (but not toughshank as I had guessed) still grows on a log beneath oaks, but now looks a little past its best.
The lower dam is more than half covered by ice, while, above the area of willows, the upper dam, which is fed by the stream, remains ice-free. A flock of Mallards stands on the frosted grass. Against the low sun you can see their breath condense as wisps of vapour.