First snow walk of the year

The first real snow came on a Saturday, which almost never happens. I left before it was properly light and took the long loop behind the reservoir. Nobody had been through yet: one line of fox prints, very straight, very purposeful, and then nothing.

Things I noticed and want to remember:

• Wet snow on larch is louder than on spruce. The needles are gone, so every twig catches its own small load and drops it separately.
• The reservoir was not frozen, but the edge had a thin skin that made a sound like a fingernail on glass when the wind pushed it.
• My old wool mittens are still better than the new ones. I keep relearning this.

Two hours out, forty minutes back. Tea from the thermos on the bench by the second gate, which has become the official halfway point without anyone deciding it.