Country diary: the dance of the snow devils

Wenlock Edge, Shropshire: Some were like wisps of bonfire smoke, others formed rolling circles of spindrift or reel-shaped vortices that blew themselves apart after a couple of seconds

Watching snow devils rise, dance and vanish in the field, as if they were beings composed of moonlight, was strangely compelling.

It was really parky. For the past few days there had been intermittent snow showers, slow-motion flakes drifting without direction that settled into a sugaring. These were separated, like the flick of a switch, by moments of dazzling sunshine and blue skies but bone cold, nothing thawed. There was a storm coming and sheep folded themselves into the lee of tall trees as the wind picked up; redwings left the fields and leaves blew about like lost birds. At first the air was quiet except for the growl of a chainsaw and disconsolate tutting from 30 jackdaws in the high branches facing into the breeze. They were watching, too.