It’s been snowing recently.
When it was fresh it made an already beautiful landscape look quite picturesque. I get the feeling that as it begins to melt, as it begins to mix with mud and slushy footprints, it will become less so.
What with transportation somewhat delayed during the last couple of days, I have spent a lot of time watching snow fall and huddling in sheltered doorways. It is particularly beautiful at night, as snowflakes dance in the street lights like fireflies, drifting embers in the orange light. That oddly calming sense that overcomes you when you watch air currents billow is ever familiar.
A Canadian friend I met at university commented on how we British always seem ill equipped to deal with snow, year on year, and I am inclined to agree with her. Whereas countries that have a lot of snow face the weather donned with chains, ploughs and incredibly warm coats, we grind to a halt. Trains cancelled, schools closed, stocking up on tinned foods in a panic, and all at only a few inches of snow on the ground. My only guess is that we are unused to it, and don’t have the infrastructure in place to continue with our lives as normal. 
For now, I am enjoying the delayed start to my days. Snow brings out the child in me, as it does most people. Snow angels, snow men, snow ball fights, and the steam of a hot cup of tea as you defrost in front of a fire.
