I am a fairly calm soul.
I do not get whipped up into the frenetic dizzyness over the latest musthave.
Hype around anything generally makes me sceptical because it causes me wonder who’s benefiting from all that shouting.
The sensationalism created by the Daily ffffflipping Mail two weeks ago truly made my bones boil. Apparently, four horsemen had been seen stalking the south-eastern corner of our Isle. Had they the Apocalypse with them in their evil rucksack? No, a fear far greater rode with them, a terror so immense it’s name could only be whispered in darkened, underground corridors. That name?…
Oooooooooohhhhhh it was coming, it was heading this way, it was going to be the most terrible of terrors, the entire nation would cease to function and Waitrose would surely run out of brie. How would we possibly survive?
I gave the clouded night sky a cursory glance as I pulled the curtains tight against Saturday evening. “You’re not going to give us any snow are you? Fuss over nothing as usual.”
Then Sunday arrived…
There WAS snow, it was real, it really was real snow and it was HERE!!!!
I honestly felt like a five year old on Christmas morning.
Moog and Noggin were less excited.
For a Norwegian Forest cat, Moog got quite upset at the snow.
So I tucked them up inside with warm radiators and blankets and resigned myself with not going anywhere for two days. The only thing I could do was immerse myself in the deep joy of this already beautiful world suddenly made more wonderous.
Billions of flakes, each and every one different to it’s neighbour, made the mundane shine.
I’ve never photographed a postbox before, but this is beautiful isn’t it?
A daydream along the road and I stumbled across the scariest shack I’ve ever witnessed. Neither Spring, Summer or Autumn had pointed this out to me. Had Winter placed it here for just this very moment?
I imagined I was in a film and surveyed the peeling shack through a tangle of scratchy branches while a piano plinked sparsely in the background.
At this point in the film you’d be telling the lone girl to turn back but secretly willing her on.
Your curiosity is mine too.
I moved closer.
Surely no-one could live here could they? I peered through the eeriest window that ever there was.
No, just stacked chairs, papers, pots of crayons, children’s pictures pinned to the wall and books,… books
Bibles and the tattered remains of The Ladybird Book of Prayers Through the Year,…. ahhh this was the church’s Sunday School Hut. A place for children.
I left before I was seen and made my way to the river where Leaf had proposed to me, to wash the shiver from my spine.
Here I took his hand as he gave me his heart.
Sadly, economy dictates that my love travels to where the money is. His time at this time was being spent in Birmingham. And it was his birthday too. Rubbish!
So with his smile in my head, I fashioned him a snowman, a peaceful snowman on the bench by our house.
“What is this life if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.”