The best thing I have ever made out of snow was this unicorn.*
The second best thing was a giant hippo, although that one got mistaken for a dead snowman and a pregnant woman on her back, amongst other things.
I like snow. It is illusive, mesmerising, and strange. And it makes pretty much everything look beautiful.
* With a lot of help from some friends.
Being British, I don’t think I could continue this blog much longer before making some trivial observation about the weather. So… whether it’s the ‘hottest October on record’, or the ‘heaviest snowfall in decades’, or the ‘most rain ever to fall in one minute’; is it just me or does the weather seem to break a new world record every other day?
For me, the weather was beautifully unpredictable from the age of 3 when, one winter morning, my mother looked out of the window and remarked, “It’s raining. The weather forecast said there would be snow.” To which I wisely replied, “Perhaps God wasn’t watching the weather forecast.”
As a child, all manner of weather was a cause for celebration; sun (summer dresses), and rain (wet play) and snow (one thousand silent snowmen falling unassembled) were met with unrivalled enthusiasm, and any school teacher will testify to the strange hysteria that overcomes small children when it is windy.
This is not the case for grown ups. They moan when it is hot and whine when it rains and snivel because the wind has got up their nose. In fact, the passage from childhood to adulthood can probably be clearly defined as the moment a fall of snow evokes a heavy groan at its inconvenience.
Perhaps tonight will bring about the ‘gustiest wind since records began,’ the ‘most banana-shaped tornado in history,’ or the ‘eeriest thunderclap ever recorded.’ Either way, I’ll leave you with this heart-felt poem that I wrote as a six year old:
It’s raining, raining, raining.
Call the cats and dogs to help us.
I’ll say run.
RUN run run.