Late November saw the UK assaulted from all fronts by an Arctic blast that swept the country into the the season's first big chill. Temperatures plummeted to below freezing and Samuel began to appreciate the comforts of his newly knitted jumper. Though Wales didn't see the drifts of snow that blanketed parts of Scotland and North-East England, enough settled to show that winter had well and truly arrived.
Your first experience of snow must, in all probability, be a strange one. Though I don't remember mine, the camera was charged and ready to document the dog's. After a surprisingly uneventful drive, with none of the slipping and sliding I'd prepared myself for, we arrived in Crymych for a stay with the parent's in law. Snow had settled here the day before, and the night's sub zero temperatures had morphed it into an icy crust that coated the grass. Despite feeling it as he pattered across the lawn, Samuel would have to wait until morning to truly see snow.
And when he did he was clearly confused. After attempting to eat it, as well as dig it, he allowed himself to simply enjoy it, and ran around the garden with all the excitement that only snow can incite.
An afternoon walk saw him gliding ungracefully across frozen puddles in an expanse of land we festively named "Winter Wonderland". When the ice unexpectedly cracked beneath him, he realised things weren't always as they appeared to be, and scampered off through the "white stuff" in a scene that echoed Jack Skellington's arrival in Christmas Town.
