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Mary's latest novel – the 11th in the Rossington series – was published on 4 November 2025. Look out for Don’t Tell Tales! Visit your local bookshop or friendly crime specialist for a copy – or order it from our stockist 
Bodies In The Bookshop, Cambridge.
February 2026 | December 2025 | November 2025 | October 2025 | September 2025
January 2026
Saturday 31 January 2026
Today was warm and sunny, almost unbelievably spring like. Small birds flitted among the trees beside the river, several of them in a tit feeding party. Nearer home the rooks are already guarding nests in the rookery above our garden and venturing down to test the strength of my bird feeders.
Friday 30 January 2026
The seemingly endless rain has disrupted the lives of many animals. We found this large dead mole on the drive in front of our car. Had the flooding dislodged him from his underground home? There was no sign of injury on his sodden body, so it didn’t look as though a cat or bird had attacked him. So maybe he drowned.
More happily, a trio of otters were spotted locally, perhaps flooded out of their holt as well. Perhaps just enjoying the extensive water around them more than the poor mole.
Thursday 29 January 2026
Walking along another stretch of the old railway line towards Parke, the National Trust property, all I could hear was the sound of sawing as NT vehicles carried tree surgeons from one casualty to another along the river side. The trees that had fallen over the line had already been cleared, and the day was calm and still, so that the turbulent weather earlier in the week seemed almost unbelievable.
The main path by the bridge up to Parke has already been relaid, lined, and covered with earth and gravel. It was in fact an improvement on its previous muddy state. One of the reminders of the storm was the line of slender saplings that lay in a row along the river bank, toppled like ninepins by the wind and rain.
Wednesday 28 January 2026
The steeply embanked old railway line, now a pedestrian and cycle path, remains one of the few spaces to be relatively clear of flood water. From its heights I looked down over the flooded fields below.
Tuesday 27 January 2026
Continuous heavy rain overnight has finally overwhelmed the local waterways. The Wray brook overflowed comprehensively, running fast and furious over the path linking the village and a nearby hamlet. Turning the corner leading down to the path I couldn’t tell what was brook and what was path, so changed my walking plans immediately.
Sunday 25 January 2026
Snowdrops flourishing among the twiggy ground under the newly laid hedge.
Friday 23 January 2026
The long winding hedge along the lane to Staverton has been cut back and expertly laid over the last weeks. Works continue now when the weather permits, and soon new growth will regenerate the hedge, so that it grows thicker and sturdier.
`Tuesday 20 January 2026
I was deeply envious to see a visitor’s local photos this morning. Taken only a few miles away last night, they showed an amazing night sky, lit deep pink and electric green by the Northern Lights. And they were taken at the same time I had taken the dogs into our garden and paused to look up at the clear sky lit with stars. No sign of the Northern Lights here.
Friday 16 January 2026
Winter landscape, with cloud backdrop.
Monday 12 January 2026
Many of the local granite bridges are festooned with moss and bracken.
Friday 9 January 2026
The local brook in full and fast winter flow.
Wednesday 7 January 2026
The snow had all vanished from our usual route up to the Haytor quarries, and as we set off a kestrel suddenly flew fast and low across the path in front of us, just a flash of chestnut brown wings before the bird disappeared into the gorse, presumably with its prey
The three white ponies who we often see at a distance emerged quite suddenly from the gorse a little further on. They moved off in a leisurely fashion in front of us, eventually crossing the old tramway and lingering among the sallows lining one of the streams below the rocks. One pony paused frequently to look curiously back at us as we followed them at a discreet distance.
Tuesday 6 January 2026
Thicker snow on the moor, patterned by the footprints of the animals who’d crossed it during the early hours of the morning. Deer slots mingled with the tracks of rabbits and hare, and with fox. I couldn’t help wondering whether the rabbits and hares waited until the foxes had passed, or whether the foxes were tracking them.