Snow

There are two types of people in the world, those who love snow and those who do not. There is no such thing as a child who does not like snow. A few people have valid objections to snow: those with bro- ken hips, and confounded commuters, for example. But anyone else whose heart does not leap at the first falling snowflakes is a miserable curmudgeon. There, I’ve said it! I get as excited by snow today as I did back on those glorious, rare occasions at school when someone in the classroom yelled, ‘It’s snowing!’ and cheery pandemonium broke out. The south of England being a mild sort of place, the best I hope for each year is a covering of a few inches, a couple of sledging outings and a day or two of jolly disruption. Today, after weeks of rain, I was excited to get out into the snow that had fallen overnight, not least of all because I had also noticed the dawn arriving a little earlier. It was nice to get away from the daily grind of book-writing in my shed. Snow makes everything feel more adventurous, though the sprinkling here couldn’t compare to the majesty of hauling a sledge across Greenland’s vast silence, relishing being self-contained with a couple of friends and very far from civilisation. But I was still thrilled. ‘As the days lengthen, the cold strengthens’ goes the proverb, with a nod to scientific veracity. Earth receives the least sunlight at the winter solstice, yet the coldest temperatures come later, a seasonal lag caused by more solar energy leaving the atmosphere than arriving. Today, the snow muffled the world and quietened everything. I could hear a buzzard and the cawing of rooks, but the usual motorways and sirens sounded softer.