Thursday, 24 January 2013

Snow, Snow, Snow


The snow fell on Friday and has lain on the ground for a week. For seven days the world has been white when I've drawn back my curtains, and icicles have hung from the eaves, glinting with a fearful beauty that puts me in mind of fairy tales. 

Some afternoons water has dripped from branches and other mornings fresh dustings of snow have covered the land, but always there's been the presence and possibility of snow in the air, and we've been living with a sense of unreality pressed up against reality, in the presence of all this beauty.

Of course, life has gone on. All week we've gone about our usual business, visiting friends, playing monsters, keeping appointments and painting ceilings. But every time I've glanced out of my window or set foot through my door, I've been greeted with the miraculous spectacle of snowflakes and reminded that life is extra special, extra beautiful, extraordinary.

And in between all the mundane details of living, that so often suffocate my wonder, I've been gifted with moments of magic.

I've heard the crunch of snow beneath my boots as I've walked out to the car, I've sat and watched lost snowflakes wend their way through an open sky, I've driven through white fields transformed by the setting sun and gasped at the beauty of the world, and I've wrapped my boy up warm and watched him slip and run through the frozen world with a smile on his face and never a care for the cold.

And as I've returned back to the reality of living, the sense of the extraordinary has come with me, and slipped into our home life too. And in amongst the everyday business of life we've lit the fire, made pies, baked potatoes, drunk hot chocolate, watched The Snowman, snuggled on the sofa and watched the snow from the windows.

Tonight the snow still sits on the ground, and before I go to bed I will peek out of the back door to look at the way it glints in the moonlight. Soon it will be gone, and reality will resume. But for now, I'm living in the presence of magic, and life is extra special, extra beautiful, extraordinary.



  1. Oh yes. Thank you for such a beautiful post Helen. We have loved the snow too. Your pictures reminded me of some of myself in the snow at about 2 or 3 years old. My children, you see, never had snow when they were that age. We had years of snowless winters. It's only in the last four or five years that it seems to have come back.

  2. You have such a beautiful way with words, Helen. I hope that you keep copies of your blog writing for John when he is older as I'm sure he'll appreciate it. The snow in London never lasts long but last Sunday it was magical to watch it fall steadily all day from the comfort of our warm, cosy house. Mr P and really want to move out of London and one of the main reasons is because we want to leave somewhere where we can appreciate the different seasons more. x

  3. Lovely photos, Helen - a very splendid snowman, too! (The fire and pie look equally appealing...)
    I think maybe I could do with a suit like John's...
    Your photos remind me of my two boys at that age (they are now 18 and 14) and how wonderful those days were but how, at times, I really didn't appreciate them. Enjoy your moments and carry on doing exactly what you're doing now.

  4. I stumbled over from pinkcat while doing a bit of blog browsing this afternoon, and just wanted to say how very much I enjoyed your photos. My children are 20, 17 and 15 now, but I still remember the excitement that a snowy day brought to our home. Personally, I will never outgrown the magic of snow crunching beneath my feet. Thanks for sharing your thoughts!