I look forward to snow. I like it – in theory. I like the idea of blue-white snowfields under clear moonlight. I like the idea of cwtching up by the stove with a big mug of tea and a good book, of snuggling down and not having to leave the house. And then it comes, and within about ten minutes I’m stir-crazy, finding my boots, digging out a stick and trying to locate the one insulated hat that fits.
I also have a tendency to be selective in my anticipation. I think, for instance, of how beautiful the garden will look under a carpet of pristine white, and not of how much damage will be done. Take my lovely crocuses, for instance. I’ve three clumps of what I think are now generally agreed to be King of the Striped.
Not so beautiful:
At least I’m not dealing with a weight of snow which can bring down branches and split shrubs into unsightly divisions, and that’s because, whatever has been happening elsewhere in Wales, our snow has been a little disappointing. There’s not been so much of it, but it’s rather difficult to tell in reality because it’s been blowing away, whisked down the hill and off over the sea by nasty katabatic winds roaring down from Moelfre and the Rhinogs. The winds are astonishing, random, wild and bitter; I went out for a brief walk and foraging session (how can you run out of onions, for heaven’s sake?), and was almost blown over. I would have been blown over if it hadn’t been for a piece of convenient ivy I was able to grab.
But there are a few things to enjoy, even in our somewhat skimpy, wind-ravaged snowfall, like agapanthus seedheads,
and the sudden flash of red berries on the skimmia in the background.
And look at the daffs poking through – they’d been coming on nicely until this, but at least you can spot them easily in the snow. More easily, in fact, which is helpful as I trail up and down the garden with firewood. I am getting through logs like no tomorrow. This lot are destined for friends in exchange for help with the tree work earlier in the year, but they had better come and get them soon. I can feel my axe hand twitching.
I also have the feeling I may have angered the weather gods, because I’ve just popped my head out, and it’s snowing again. We shall see.