EXPLORERS
Why does snow always fall inside a car when you open a snow-covered door? My car seat will now be damp and cold and wet when I next get into it. The snow is creaky. I love creaky snow but we tested a number of words before we settled for ‘creaky’. It is lovely: each step feels solid, feels bedded in the cold, like the snow will just drift around our boots but not think of melting or slipping.
We are just like a stereotype; both with our hats and gloves on, the snowflakes settling on us; making us into mini Arctic explorers by the time we reach the woods.
If you look upwards into the smudged amber clouds, the sky is a mazy whirl of flakes, a mist of snow swirling in the air.
We hold hands, only letting go when we get too hot. Every branch has its white lining enhancing its blackness. Every leaf, a soft clump of snow perched on it. The puddles underfoot break with a crack when we stand on them.
After a while, I add to the conversation you have started. I add to it, so that by the time we reach the Carmen road, our words are flowing around us and your laugh is glittering among the trees.
In the graveyard, the stones are stark against the whiteness. The main road is a red-brown slush, with slow cars.
On the way home, we pop into the shop with the pound coin you found in your coat. The thunderball ticket we buy promises a life of ease. We make up our fantasies of what we will do when we win; settle down for an evening in front of the telly while the world is all silent in the darkness outside the windows.
(Photo's snowy mountains in Easter Ross & Icy twigs in Evanton woods Feb 2022)
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