Thursday, 16 December 2010 Snow is coming soon

Sometimes, like this evening, the rain hits the landing window so hard that it’s as if someone is breaking in - I have to mute the television to check for the more rhythmic background sound. It’s black out there tonight – no moon, no stars can be seen. The only illumination is that of the sitting room lights reaching out into the garden but failing to brighten anything but the immediate terrace and garden walls.

And now snow is forecast again. We will have more of the white flakes, which imprison the village and encourage the women to cook comfort food and the men to stack the logs high in the hearths. I love the way it covers the imperfections and makes everything outside beautiful and new. I hate the way it threatens my family travelling from England to me here in Brittany for Christmas.

I can’t bear to drive in the snow, I’m too frightened of sliding off the road, or of some other driver driving into me. My friend has offered to drive up to the port to collect my daughter and grandson whatever the weather. I just have to keep my fingers crossed that it not too bad for them to get to the port in England and that it’s not too bad even for him to drive here – I just have to keep them crossed that the snow disappears as fast as it arrives.  This was less than three weeks ago looking from my west window:

I loved it when I was small and my father built a snowman for me in the garden, buttoned and eyed with small pieces of coal and Dad's old allotment flat cap on the snowball head. I loved it when my children were small and they sledged down the fields near our home. I love the pictures I am sent of my grandson sledging down the hill of the College my children attend now. But now, if I’m honest, I am not keen on snow because I have to rely on others helping with my animals and helping me. My neighbour, with my interest at heart, bans me from walking outside in case I fall and need more looking after, and it makes me feel older than I am. 

I love the bird photos I can take though, with the background of snow they are contrasted well and the snow stops them blending into the background.  I like too, the muffled silence that thick snow creates, waking up and feeling that nothing is happening out there at all because the quiet is all enveloping.

But - roll on spring and warm, sunny days!

Twelve hours later - update - snow is here this morning - here's photo of a chaffinch in the latest fall.

and over the wall