Snow has flumped across the UK and yesterday it cosied up to Derby. I nearly crashed three times while I was driving home from the hospital last night.
This morning, I looked out and everything in my garden appeared to be wearing white, velvety top hats. As much as I hate the snow for leading to me falling over and breaking bones that I would rather remain intact, I have to admit it’s very pretty.
So, I put on my wellies and took a walk to get some snaps of it. At first, I could hear a lot of people around, in the wood. Kids snowballing, adults muttering, the shriek of someone getting snow shoved down their top. But once I got out into the middle of the field, that all faded away.
It was quite possible to believe I was entirely on my own. Really, I was. I kept walking and walking, the snow powdery and fine around my legs, wind drifting white hazes across the landscape.
I lost myself. The snow was deep, starting to come over the top of my wellies. It was so bright around me, so dazzling that I found it hard to remember my problems. I felt calm. I wanted to lie down in the snow and pull it over my head like a duvet. I wanted the peace and serenity of just falling asleep in that cold.
But then a golden retriever bounded past me, laughing and swearing as all dogs do. As she ran back to her owner, she stuck her head down into the thick snow, imitation snow plough powered by Bonios. The dog’s absolute, wonderful stupidity jogged me out of my emo reverie. How brilliant is that dog? Here’s me, moping through a field, when I should be running through it snout first, huffing snow like a banker in a whorehouse.
Click any of the pics for more and see if you can spot my Zen Master dog. 🙂