It is extraordinary how a thin cloak of mist can change a landscape. Early this morning the dog took us for a walk out at Berthem. The mist deadened the sounds around us, obscured the horizon and blurred outlines. I thought we’d seen the last of the hares, but we saw no less than six of them, quite deliberately silhouetted on the crest of a ridge. In the picture is a favourite tree, a fairly young oak tree that stands alone and seems to drift among the fields, though actually it is by a dirt track.