For as long as I can remember, I have loved snow. That delicate, fluffy white stuff falling from the sky 🌨
I have childhood memories of being eagerly fixed to the weather forecast after the news. This was only ever in the winter, as the only reason I watched the weather was for any hint of snow. At one point I wanted to be a weather presenter, and my parents bought me a BBC/Met Office weather kit, complete with map of the UK and weather stickers. #weathernerd 🤓
I even used to check Teletext (remember that?!) when the weather wasn’t on, and I wanted to check the status of predicted snowfall.
In the south of England, snow is a rarity. This week has been somewhat an anomaly, where we have seen sustained snowfall (I even wore my Christmas jumper – most days). As a child, I only ever had only one or two “snow days” (day off school), and a handful more instances where snow actually fell and – crucially – settled.
I remember being envious of those living in the Midlands and northern England, and especially Scotland – where snow fell heavily, and settled in centimetres and inches. Centimetres and inches. Inches. Meanwhile, the most I’ve seen is a couple of centimetres (possibly even 3, nearly 4cm this week), and any snow that does settle tends only to stick around for a day or two. Before it either turns to mush on the pavements / side-roads, or it disappears completely from the main road due to the grit that has been laid out in preparation. (Don’t worry, the trains and buses always seem to fail anyway).
Shortly after flying back from a family holiday in Canada, I remember hearing that they had had over a foot of snow, with folks unable to venture outdoors. We would have been forced to be stuck in indoors, and not have been able to fly. A whole foot of snow! I imagined us looking out of the window, at the landscape outside my Canadian auntie’s house. It sounded exciting. Cosy.
Only a couple of Christmases ago, we went to the Swiss alps. I thought, this is it. I’m finally going to get my white Christmas. But, though there was snow higher-up in the mountains, the town in which we were staying had a couple of flurries, and it didn’t really settle. Train journeys in that part of the world are beautiful, and I imagined seeing the whole landscape covered in the white stuff, rather than just the mountain-tops and grassy verges here and there.
The wait for a white Christmas continues.
Reflecting as I write this, I’m not exactly sure where this deep fascination comes from. I think it’s something to do with the feelings that snow evokes for me. As a kid, snow was synonymous with the end-of-year Christmas holidays, Father Christmas (‘Santa Claus’ wasn’t as much to my liking) and presents. It connotes a sense of warmth, cosiness and togetherness. And it’s looks beautiful, whatever it touches.
I love being sat inside, looking out as the snow falls. Perhaps this is just my version of what Danes know as “hygge”.
To this day, I’m still dreaming of a proper snowy landscape, with every inch of the vast panorama before me covered in white.
✏️ Written: Tuesday, 27th February 2018 @ 11.05am
What about you? ❄️
Are you a snow-lover or a snow-hater? What’s the most snow you’ve ever witnessed? (PS. please don’t make me *too* jealous 🙄)