From our Special Correspondent, newly returned from the great white north.
Happy New Year!! 2010 has kicked off to a great start – it looks like this:
This is actually rather more special than the first two; as I opened the bedroom curtains this morning at H’s parents’ house in Yorkshire a tall grey heron stalked gracefully across the lawn and took off into the distance. These are his tracks.
Whilst this would explain the lack of fish in my in-laws back pond, and the rather self-satisfied air of the heron, I’ll forgive him his meal for a sight like that.
H and I had decided that if the mountain wouldn’t come to Mohammed, we should head north for the new year in search of snow, and so we went to my inlaws in Yorkshire, the only county I know where the Sunday lunch menu at the very nice hotel restaurant we frequented today runs starter, yorkshire pudding course, main course and dessert. It was all delicious.
It started to snow tiny hardened pellets of ice as we arrived on New Year’s Eve, but as the calendars flicked over at midnight, the flakes must have begun to fall. We didn’t really notice it until we were headed for bed; a soft powdery covering, just enough to blanket the front garden and the cars.
H insisted that we boot up and go out to play, which is why the car wishes all passers-by a cheery festive greeting – perhaps we felt someone in the neighbourhood is due some form of aural surgery:
The sun shone in the morning though and our light dusting started to run away with the shadows across the back garden, and, despite the occasional and slightly mournful cheep of “snow!” from a member of the party who shall remain absolutely and completely anonymous and in no way resembles me at all, that seemed to be it.
I am becoming increasingly convinced that the power of Christmas miracles and festive good deeds induces snowfall. When we had a blizzard one lunchtime at work the other week, the heavens opened mere seconds after we finished decorating a colleague’s pod for her and replacing a very dead plant that she was trying to nurse back to life, with a very vibrant poinsettia which appeared to be sprouting pom-poms.
On Saturday we headed to evening church in heavy sleety rain, that splatted on the windscreen and made every effort to find its way down the back of your neck. When we came out it was into a whirl of white. It was wonderful (and the “snow!” started to alternate with “so pretty!”).
H and I booted up properly this time and went for a little walk up to the top of the road and back. In that brief jaunt we put some serious effort into our yeti-impersonations, what do you think?
I was made to shake vigorously before I was let anywhere near the inside of the house!
The snow stopped falling as we ate supper and it was really no more than an inch deep at best if I’m honest, but the frost held it over til this morning and added that magical crunch and the dusting of pearliest glitter across the top.
It also helps the visual effect that the roads around my in-laws are of the DIY grit variety (box of grit at the end of the road), and that no-one felt like doing any gritting.