Yesterday’s warmer weather allowed us to go for a nice, long walk in the deep forest at the end of our street. We hadn’t been in there for a while, so we all enjoyed mooching around looking for any scars that the long winter and recent winds might have left on the face of our old friend. A few trees seem to have succumbed to the elements since the late autumn, but our favourite ones are still standing proud.
The forest is still bare and desolate-looking, waiting patiently for its lavish glory to be restored in the spring.
However, the buds timidly forming on the branches and the odd bluebell poking through the dead leaves filled the air with optimism and let us know that those days are not too far away.
It was hard to take any decent photos of George on this particular occasion, because he was buzzing with excitement and hardly lifted his nose off the ground. He must have missed the forest so much and been so overwhelmed by its smells that he went into super-sniffing mode and hardly noticed me and my annoying camera. So these two shots will have to do. For now.