By early afternoon I realised that if I was going to get a walk in I would just have to go for it and risk being caught out in one of the wintry squalls that had been arriving every half hour or so during the morning.
I made it to the pastures below Moorside before I got caught, so I tucked in between a wall and a tree and sat it out for twenty minutes or so while the powder snow flew by.
Down at the stepping stones the water was running high but with the aid of a stick I got across.
In the woods the ramson leaves were providing a lush pre-spring feel, but there was no sign of any woodland flowers yet.
The dam was busier than usual, with the foul weather bringing plenty of fowl in to shelter. There were ten or more gadwall, half a dozen coots (which have been absent all winter) a pair of tufted duck and of goosander, along with the usual moorhen, mallard and mute swans.
The sun re-emerged long enough to shine on the goosanders, although it was tough work paddling into the wind across the choppy water.