Shattered ice

I woke to a world silenced by a cloak of freezing fog. It isolated the veteran oaks in the grounds of Thorpe Hall and encased the dry reed stems in the valley with sparkling crystals. 

Sheets of ice had formed on the high water resulting from Friday's sleet and snow, which had now flowed back into the river, leaving frosted glass shelves perched among the reeds. The cracking of the ice was one of the few sounds to penetrate the silence of the fog, along with the distant barking of a dog.