In England, we don't get an annual guarantee of snowfall. In some ways I am thankful for that, because when it comes, we are ill prepared, but most definitely incredibly excited! Snow came our way last Friday in the early hours of the morning, heralding the announcement of a Snow Day from many schools, mine included!
Since Thursday, we have scrunched, munched, jumped and flumped through the snow. With my children at school, I have relished in following their lead, making snow angels and igloos (built with wood, I hasten to add).
On Saturday, John and I visited Blaise Castle, a favourite spot of ours, and relished the peace and quiet, as the snow absorbed our conversations, and made way for our footsteps. I love how the snow silently invited us to play, insisting that snow balls be made and thrown, juggled and caught; carefully compacting beneath my weight as I threw myself into a handstand.
The fragile ice on the pond tempts the lightest of feet to take careful steps across its strong waters; the mind of an adult resists, knowing the foolhardiness of treading on thin ice. The sounds of the river beckon memories of Narnia, the promise of change, that the ice will thaw and Spring will come.
How about you, dear readers? What does life look like for those of you who live in parts of the world like Russia, Poland, Canada and America where there is snow for months of the year? I would love to hear from you!