The cold weather came and answered a question I didn’t even know I wanted to ask. In the field by the caravan site runs a long row of molehills. Walking that way yesterday, I found that the snow had covered these molehills and turned them into a miniature mountain range. I’d crouched down to gaze at one of the glistening white heaps and was just wondering what moles do during hard winters, when a fountain of brown soil rose. A mole was digging right under my nose.