Snow at long last. Snow is almost synonymous with Scotland, but this past week while the rest of the UK seemed to be battling the onslaught of the white stuff, here in Ayrshire we had nothing, nada, zilch. A huge disappointment to those of us who love snow and look forward to it’s arrival every winter with the excitement of a child, one who loves sledging and slip sliding, snowballs and making snowmen.
Yesterday we woke up to snow and it kept snowing all day. It awoke in me that well hidden child who loves the white stuff. It pulled me from the sofa, from deep places and lured me out into a wonderland.
Donning the furry boots, mitts and sheep skin gloves on top, hands like shovels but warm hands none-the-less. Two scarves, vest, sweatshirt, gilet and battered Barbour, oh and not forgetting the jeans of course. Headgear, has to be done, an unfortunate hat that keeps the ears warm. Unfortunate in the fashion sense but who the hell cares.Step out into the snow, best foot forward. I shall walk in the fresh air, take my camera and breathe.
The world looks monochrome as if all colour drained from sky, earth and all things in-between. It reminds me of my college days, oh 30 years ago I fear, when I took so many black and white photographs to pass exams. I was obsessed by b/w photography, eschewing colour and loving the texture and shadows, light, shade and real feeling that black and white and all those amazing shades of grey produced. A whole world of colour that wasn’t colour at all.
Tracks; footsteps and wheels, pawprints. Ways forward, the means of movement of getting someplace in the still white world.
Normally unseen, they show the way. A map if you will, to where one does not know.
They lead me from the house and up the lane, over the crossroads and off up the track.
The stream is busy, rushing as ever, keen to be about its business. Going places, always in a hurry.
I stand and watch, mesmerized by the bubbling, racing water and frozen edges, action and stillness. The gentle grasses overhanging and drooping under their snow laden weight. How can something so slender and delicate hold so much snow? Where does it find its strength?
So cold the walk is inspiring and wonderful. The mere fact that the snow has got me out. Out into the world, away from myself for an hour of cheek tingling, foot slipping, finger numbing action.
Just outside the house I spot one more thing for the camera to capture. Something stark against all the white of the day. Something different, something green. There are daffodils pushing through the frozen earth, Mother Nature showing her strength in rebirth. There she is, against the odds, forcing through where normal sense would say it is impossible. New growth, life in a frozen, silent world. You can almost hear those green shoots calling out “I’m here, I made it, I’m hanging in there and I will be something soon”. They make me smile, I snap a photo and stamp the snow off my boots as I enter the house.
A feeling of calm, lets upload photos and put words to images, feel a stirring of life where all was frozen. It feels good.
Thanks for your reassuring and kind comments yesterday. I was moved beyond words, picked up and hugged by a virtual friendship and support that this strange blogging world can bring.
What are you doing today? Do you have snow outside, is it white and fluffy or are you in town and city with slush on the pavements and buses splashing your feet with frozen muddy water? I hope where you are there is some snow magic, something to make a moment just wonderful.