Snowangels

Suddenly it started snowing in the village. Big fluffy snowflakes fell from the sky. It felt like home for a while, a split second, when I lifted my curtains and a snow covered garden was revealed my thoughts were for the first time this year turned to winter. It has been snowing all over the UK these past weeks, but the village has been spared for some unGodly reason until now. Walking in the fluffy powder was a joy, although of course the panic stricken council workers had been out battling nature armed with salt as never before, which in effect turned the good stuff into slush. Beauty into ugliness - I guess its a matter of national pride here. Make everything good into something brownish-grey, which is ultimately more like the familiar rain and nothing like the beautifully white winter dust. The joy of snow is that it can turn everyone into children, throwing snowballs at every chance, making snowmen as high as is humanly possible, every sloping hill into snowboard heaven. Of course it cannot last, not here, not with the sea so close and the temperature never really below zero. In two days most of the dust has turned into slush or water, however our garden is still unaffected - reminding me every morning of what the home country must be like right now. Making me homesick, but only for a split second. Until I remember all the hassle that comes with snow, the clearing every morning just to be able to gain access to the road, the constant cleaning of hallways containing snow/salt water brought indoors by big heavy snow boots, feeling cold all the time (I guess this one applies for the Island too, however this is not due to the temperatures just the bad housing insulation), being unable to sit down anywhere outside since everything is covered with icy mass and being a woman this is one thing you learn very, very quickly as it can lead to horrific urinal tract infections...oh the joys of cold winters! I have to admit the 'small' short winters here are quite enjoyable to one who wasn't born with skis on their feet, in opposition to public belief that we all love snow - I am not a huge fan, or didn't used to be. Yet here I find myself wanting more of the heavy stuff, enough to feel its really winter. Maybe it's time to return to the North?