The seduction of snow
I was given a rather interesting prompt earlier about how love and snow are very similar. I sat back and thought about it for a while and it appears, at least on one level, to be true!
On Wednesday last week, the first flakes started to land and they caught me unawares. I wasn’t prepared, yet, for snow. On Thursday, with my car roof covered in the white stuff, I made my way to the tyre shop to have my front tyres replaced with tyres which grip – not full winter tyres but better ones.
On Friday, the snow started falling properly and Saturday morning was very pretty. I love a fresh fall of snow, it hides all the blemishes and gives a smooth clean appearance. The novelty gets me every year without fail.
Sunday found me waking up in amazement at how much more had fallen. It was overwhelming. It was deep, it was true, it was stunning. I spent time with the snow, cosy in my home and shut off from the world. I was out revelling in the company of the snow. I was endeared to it. I saw it in all its glory in the trees, in the fields, on the roads closed to traffic.
On Monday I was speechless. The beauty and volume of the snow increased. The attention it sought was demanding, relentless even. It was creating an environment in which I had to find a way to respond to its requests in a way which worked for us both. The power of the snow though made me scared, it left me feeling a little vulnerable and unable to care for myself any longer.
Yes, the beauty and wonder of it was there for all to see and yet it was now disturbing my otherwise comfortable life. I began to wonder if there truly was a way to incorporate so much snow into my life. Would it allow me to see friends and family. My work was suffering. Could I escape? I was getting cabin fever.
I took a chance to regain control of my life, safely and with good reason. The presence of what had been sparkling fun and amusement had turned into a monster chaining me to the kitchen sink and draining my store cupboard of the essentials in my life. I crept out of the house with my kitchen broom and set to clearing the snow off The Green Goddess (my trusty old Volvo). I was knee deep and my courage was beginning to ebb.
I looked around me, I knew some people had dealt with their own monsters and took heart.
A few miles away lay the village, this is where I was heading. A one track road which had seen little in the way of preparation took me there. The shops looked as if a plague of locusts had descended recently. The shelves were bare, no milk, no bread. (Plenty of wine and cake though)
I drove back home gingerly and rather despondent. As I turned in to our cul-de-sac, the car ground to a halt. I’m not going back in she said. I dug, she fought, I dug, she fought. We reached a compromise. She’s half in and half out of the drive!
The snow remains a part of my life for the foreseeable future, I have faced the monster of its danger, it’s ferocity, and its gentleness. It has let me out and we now have a sneaky respect for one another.
The snow itself is not the whole problem, it’s our attitude to it. It’s the attitude of society which we collectively feed from, it’s the workings of the government/council to help us move around freely. It’s the very quick to fall in love and even faster out of it mentality when things (and our own fickleness) stop us from being ourselves.
Jackie W
Jackie Walker is a relationship therapist, you can find her on Twitter @JackieWalker
About Sarah ArrowSarah Arrow is the managing editor of Birds on the Blog, in real life she is the communications director of a same day courier service. She is an enthusiastic UK based pro-blogger and co- author of the soon to be published Zero to Blogger
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13 Responses to The seduction of snow
Revenge: A dish best served cold?
I’m not a nasty person. I’ve never in my life deliberately set out to hurt someone, or cause them pain. But right now, and for the past three or four years, on and off, my thoughts have been filled with fantasies of revenge. Now I have the opportunity, and I can’t decide what to do. [...]
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I can’t believe they left the wine and cake on the shelves! If they get snowed in they will have a very dull time
I know, and I’m digging frantically again to get back for more!! Surrender is one thing, starving is another!
It’s definitely time to surrender to not driving – I got a mile along the road and it got worse, I’ve come back and will wait till the morning as it’s getting too close to the sun setting to do it safely now! Still have cake and wine for this evening though
My first thoughts too, Sarah! If you’re going to be snowed in then cake and wine sounds like a much better option than bread and milk
Twitter: StudyingOnline
We have about 4 inches of snow here now. It mostly fell yesterday, but is still blowing down now. When I woke up yesterday, I knew snow had fallen, because there is that strange quality to the light and the odd acoustic damping that it causes. Plus hardly any cars on the nearby road.
But now I have to go out in it, to walk to the station and get the train into town. I can’t avoid it, because I need to buy and post Tom’s birthday present today, but I’m not looking forward to it especially.
I love that light and silence. There’s nothing moving round here, no post, no papers, no buses just people digging snow – and every time we clear a bit, it starts again!
Our local has sold out of all the essentials, how ridiculous is that? Our siege mentality . . .
Loving watching the white stuff fall. It’s so pretty, and of course, I am lucky, sitting in my office in the warm no need to go anywhere for a couple of days.
I’m concerned that when I get to the shops tomorrow there might not even be flour to make bread, or vegetables for soup. Still …. cake and wine tonight!
I wish I could take such a romantic view of snow … but being from Canada where it’s so much of a regular part of life for up to five months a year, it rather lost its novelty appeal for me by the time I was about 3.
Even though I’ve now lived in the UK for 40 years I still spit fur and feathers when there’s a pissy inch or two of snow and nonetheless I can’t get my car in and out of the a) driveway and b) road because both are on slopes and no-one has ploughs, grit, salt or diddly squat to do something about it.
Still, the economics of snow-removal and allied equipment are such that it’s probably cheaper to let the whole effing country grind to a halt for a week or two rather than kit councils out with snow ploughs and proper salting gear.
So is snow romantic? Hmmm … best to ignore it I say, as the Canadian person in this picture demonstrates…
http://peachin.com/images/newsletters/quebec2008jan/03_Quebecgolf.jpg
Twitter: SuzeStMWrites
I remember us staying once for a few weeks (between houses) with friends who have also a chalet in Val D’Isere. One day, we woke up to a pile of snow and I said excitedly to the 5 year old “Have you ever seen snow before?” He rolled his eyes and gave me that patronising look as he explained to me that he had been skiing since he was old enough to walk. Oh yes, I forgot about Val D’Isere – what a dumbo!
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