Fresh snow continued to fall for the first few days and nights of this week, creating whirlwinds of white beneath the brooding skies.
We lay awake long into the night, listening to the fierce winds and the soft slap of snow driven against the house. Like many people, I find that a few days of crisp white snow is more than enough for me; the pleasure is soon overtaken by the inconvenience as it lingers and refreezes in more menacing sheets of ice.
I have seen redwings in the garden all week alongside our usual visitors, silently turning over the snow in their quest for food; they too quickly tire of this winter weather.
Today, though, the sun came out for the first time in over a week, the birds were singing, and the monotonous monochromous world was re-painted anew with blue skies, the golden sun and patches of bright green re-emerging from beneath their shroud. With the forecasts finally free of more immediate snow falls, the thaw has begun.
I crept out for a brisk lunchtime walk, down lanes that ran with the meltwater – this could cause its own problems, as the fields are still too saturated with water to absorb any more, and a further freeze will turn the wet roads to glass.
In the garden, the cats were bouncing around in the remaining snow, though Faith favoured the stepping stones which had re-appeared like buttons.
The daffodils look slightly bowed, but otherwise unharmed by the ravages of the weather.
Their golden trumpets still make a pretty contrast against the white white snow, while the growing patches of green are a welcome relief from the recent stark snowscape. It’s astonishing how quickly the senses are dulled by the limited palette of white and grey, as the horizons come and go beneath the clouds.
Despite the snow still lying on the ground, the wintry scenes outside and low temperatures, I am caught unawares by a fleeting moment mid-afternoon; a lightening of heart. The blue sky, the glow of the sun, trilling bird song, the drone of a plane overhead: suddenly these come together and the moment sings of spring. Softly. Slowly. It’s on its way.
I can’t wait.