Winter and spring are locked in a gripping fight. Gusts of wind of 50mph on Pendle blow drifts of snow, only to let the sun come out and shine beneficially on the layers of white.

Following some distinctive hare-prints, the animal was soon in front of me, only to take back off. We played this game of hide-and-seek for an hour, and it took me past an enchanting landscape where shadowed branches were lined out beautifully and the ground created a ornate landscape of meandering patterns.

Then another black cloud bank would appear with renewed gusts of wind. The hare was but a taunting silhouette stopping in my visual field, but never long enough to take the photo.

Rivulets of snow chased down the hill, swept and whirled, piling up in the valley.

As so often, sunset made up for the unsuccessful hare mission by bathing the Ribble Valley in gold. There was a haze around the sun, however, as if filtered through mulled glass, boding ill for the weather to come.