Winter wonderland? Arrgghhhh!

What exactly is there to wonder at when it snows?  It’s well understood stuff that forms inside of clouds and only appears as snow when ground temperatures are very cold.  It’s pretty, but not exactly the stuff of wonder.  After the age of about two, depending on which country you live in, snow stops being a thing of wonder and starts being a thing you fall over on: either on purpose or by accident.

Yet throughout the big, wide blogosphere I am repeatedly hearing the joys of wandering the winter wonderland.  From fully grown educated people who should know better.   Fairly or unfairly, I am now at screaming point with it.  It’s not a wonder, it’s piled up in the drive and stopping me getting to work.  It’s not a wonder; it stops the bin men coming to collect the garbage.  It’s not a wonder unless I can legitimately wrap up warm and stomp around in it just for fun.

Actually, there is one thing wondrous about it –and that’s the enormous, heart-stopping noise it makes as it slides off the roof and comes crashing to the ground in great, life-threatening waves.  Wow – wondrous indeed!

Icicle City

Snow is still piled up everywhere.  This would be perfectly normal for months of the year in countries like Switzerland.  I remember being aghast to find out that Zurich had green parks and tarmac beneath the thick white snow stuff I had been trudging around on for months.  Life carried on perfectly normally, just with snow boots rather than stilettos – the Swiss are built for snow. 

But we expect to be covered in snow four days of the year, and not much longer.  So the coldest and snowiest winter for 30 years has us working from home and feeling rather bewildered: not enough grit for the roads, not enough traction on the tyres, and now not enough food in the supermarkets. It has brought us all together in deep and riveting conversations about getting your car out of the drive, and snow shovels.

As well as being submerged under a coating of thick icing-sugar snow, we now also have the world’s largest icicles dangling outside the kitchen window: crystal clear, dangerous, dripping icicles that obviously belong to a forgetful and evil Snow Queen.

It isn’t just the UK that has been affected; all of Northern Europe has been blasted by this arctic interlude.  I imagine Switzerland has completely disappeared under snow by now.  Someone will have to remember to go dig them out come spring time. 

But what is most unusual is the type of snow.  I haven’t seen so much powdery, dry snow that looks as if it has been spit out of a snow machine for ages; since Switzerland in fact.  It’s none of your slushy, wet, muddy snow that we normally get.  It’s a trillion little snowflakes all frozen separately and spread thickly over everything: just the stuff for sliding down.  And what better than being next to a mountain of a hill for sledging?

So the little plastic spoon sledge that came free with something was rescued and taken up the hill.  It worked brilliantly, transporting us down the hill at a frightening speed.  Feet up to go fast, feet down to put on the brakes.  On piste and off piste.  Snow down the back of trousers, in the front of jackets, in hair and on gloves.  It was a great deal more fun than either it sounds, or than I expected.  So much fun, in fact, that I was prepared to trudge up the hill repeatedly for my turn to career down on the plastic spoon.  It even made tinned soup for lunch taste delicious: quite an achievement.

Ice in the Night

Oooh it was cold last night; so cold that the electric blanket got turned on at 4am.  Brrr!  This morning there is ice on the inside of all the windows.   I haven’t been out for two days so may have to go punch a hole in the ice and catch some fish.  Such a romantic gesture which would look good to he-who-goes-to-work-come-hail-ice-or-storm, the only problem is that we haven’t got a salmon lake in the garden.  But the weather is cold enough that it seems like the only option to stay alive.  That and the well stocked fridge, obviously.

The residents of the House are divided as to whether this is a true crisis or not.  Half have departed for work at roughly the normal time each morning despite six inches of snow – all men, of course.  The other half are hunkering down and refusing to budge.  That includes me because it’s cold, cold, cold outside!

The four legged neighbours don’t seem too worried by this cold – but they have stables to retreat to at night, and warm tartan jackets to wear by day.  They are pampered horses, not like the Dartmoor ponies you see with 4 inches of snow on their backs that no one can be bothered to brush off.   That will be me soon, with little icicles on my nose and ears by morning.

Snow on the hills

I’m working from home today because of the snow. They forecast 40cm in the South East of England. 40cm. Can you imagine? Of course we haven’t got 40cm of snow, perhaps half that, but we have enough: lots in fact. And snow of the right kind – it’s fluffy, crispy, crunchy snow. Snow that makes you want to lie down in it to see what sort of shape you make. Snow that makes you want to trudge about so that you can see your footprints, and then immediately regret it because you’ve spoilt its deep, white glory. Yup, we have snow on and between the hills.

It’s taken me until lunchtime to be intrepid enough to go put out the rubbish. The bin men haven’t been for a fortnight so there is a thick layer of bitingly cold snow on top of the wheelie bins and the recycle baskets. Adding another empty bottle of champagne to the already overflowing basket is oddly satisfying, even though the Christmas and New Year festivities are definitely over. I trudge to the garage stepping in the footsteps of the abominable snowman, or he-who-was-determined-to-go-to-work-this-morning. Probably the latter but I do a good abominable impression as I stride about. Empty boxes for the Christmas tree and decorations get dutifully brought in to pack away Christmas just past. My hands are stinging from the cold.

Even so, I’m oddly relaxed at this rather impractical weather. Perhaps it’s because I’ve been unusually productive and creative today, or because it’s so utterly beautiful and I don’t have a compelling reason to brave the roads. The big house in the distance looks so hopelessly romantic that I could be one of the Bennett sisters setting out on an impossible hike across the countryside. The trees are all impersonating Christmas cards, and the garden looks like someone has been out to spread glistening white icing all over it. Edible indeed!

I doubt this optimistic view of everything will last. The overnight temperatures for the next couple of days are forecast to be low, low, low which means icy, icy roads. Not the sort of thing I am good at. Still, no point worrying about tomorrow when there are more leftovers in the fridge, and a warm, quiet flat to work in.

I’ll pack the tree away later – it looks just too pretty against the snow-filled window.