At least we are that much closer to Spring. On the other hand, winter can be so wonderfully beautiful. As a child, I loved to explore the woods near my home, especially after a heavy snowfall. Then the branches, arching close over my head with the weight of snow, became a magical, soft tunnel from which I emerged with my own sparkling mantle of white. Now, as an adult, having to commute through the ice and snow to spend my day doing what I do not prefer, can rob the season of its charm. How nice if we could declare winter to be one long holiday, compelled never to leave home unless we chose to visit friends or buy food to be eaten with our families in our warm kitchens.
“Being in this room on a winter night,
alone or with one or two great friends,
the sparkling coal fire with its low
brass-bound fender, the familiar things all around,
sitting in a chair which becomes a nest
with letters and papers and baskets and telephone
scattered on the floor, dogs comfortably
settled by the fire, or near the draught of the door
according to their thickness of coat,
is my idea of an evening happily spent.”
Deborah, Duchess of Devonshire,
The House: A Portrait of Chatsworth
Your memories of childhood in the snow are beautiful. Mine are so different. I grew up in what you'd call today a slum. Tiny 2 up, 2 down houses, pressed close together. No trees but at least you knew your neighbours. In that long, cold winter of '47 my Granddad made me a sled and pulled me down the street, shrieking happily in the deep snow.
ReplyDeleteThey are still happy memories.
Hugs
June xx