Magical, magical snow. That’s how it feels to us desert-dwellers. I mean, I’ve always been a skier, so I like snow, and I’m under no illusions as to what it’s actually like… it’s cold and it’s wet… but of course, it is beautiful and magical and the idea of a moonlight, snowy European walk is enchanting.
The first time it snowed it was exactly that… enchanting. It started in the morning with big, fat flakes of snow lazily turning the ground into a white carpet. Thomas and I took our first snow walk together crunching through, enjoying the silence, taking lots of photos and stopping for a hot tea to stare out at it. Amazing.
But then the bubble burst.
Because after that it can do one of the following things:
- The ground turns to ice and makes walking, riding and driving a nightmare
- It warms up a little and the snow turns to slush – think dirty, wet feet and pants every time you go out and deluges of dirty slush propelled upwards by cars as they drive by
Being unemployed meant I was able to stay warm and safe inside when the weather got too bad. But for the people who had to get up each day, scrape ice off their windshields, navigate snow and ice covered roads and dense fog to get to where they needed to be… nobody is loving this.
So I fondly remember the mornings in Melbourne whereby I occasionally had to sit in the car for a few minutes while the windscreen cleared and the heating warmed up. Ah, those were the days.