Snow snow snow and more snow. It's usual of course if you live somewhere that has generous regular annual quantities of snow, but it is UNusual here in Britain, even as far north as Edinburgh in Scotland where I live.
The first flakes arrived on my doorstep with visiting friends on the 19th December and since then it has stayed and successive layers of snow and hail have been added till in places it's over a foot deep, with no sign of melting away. You could probably slice through and see layers as in a tree trunk, showing the nameless different varieties of snow that have fallen from day to day. Large feathers floating down. Light windblown swirls, blizzards of snow moving as fast as rain. White hail like the middles of aniseed balls. Slushy stuff that hardened into sheets of ice that forced us off the pavements and into the traffic. Icicles. More snow. Snow falls one hardly notices because it just keeps arriving. in fact it's a huge wealth of snow, snowy riches and a photographer's paradise.
It has stopped us in our tracks. Over Christmas it was just part of the cultural sleep, snow that slipped off Christmas cards and into our gardens ready for making snowmen, right on cue. Over New Year it was all part of the longer and longer seasonal holiday that people take. Now it is, for most, time to go back to work but schools, airports and roads are closed. Our road is still deep in snow and ice. My car is more cake than car right now and I'll wait for the thaw to defrost it. And wait. More is forecast. I'm counting out our logs for the wood stove because there's no way for the delivery truck to get up here.
The message? For me at least it is about stopping, living really simply and resting. It's perhaps like a rest in a hammock, suspended from much of normal life.
And another message? There's a slow shock in all this. It's a completely unexpected circumstance and has ramifications. One example is that I didn't have enough logs for this long because I was expecting to be able to order more. I wonder if I should be better prepared for the unexpected? Yes, of course, but in fact it's fine. This time seems to be more about being able to accept such a big shock, even with it's attendant complications and to get on with it.
The wild birds swim on the part of the lake that is not frozen and are glad of food from people.
Actually, even though we may have to go without certain things, such as me with logs, and we may have to struggle in all kinds of ways, it's also a time to realise how rich one is. I have gas, electricity, warm clothing and food in the fridge and in the cupboard. It's a good time to take stock, of who one is...what one has...one's life...business.
And in this clean white landscape there are so many opportunities for something new to arrive, as on a fresh canvas.
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