I reached the old fishing place near the Sheep Brook and stood for a while. The winter floods had pulled some of the timbers down into that world below the water.
Bethlehem grange farm is still bare and bleak after the long, cold months of winter, but here and there are touches of early spring. Clumps of Candlemas Bells brighten Broken Heart Spinney and grow against the wall of the hay barn.
As dusk settled, I made my way home. The fragile touches of spring were lost in the cold March evening and winter trailed its cloak of frost across the meadows beside the track once more.