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Perfect Snow

There IS something magical about snow: the fact that very single snow flake is unique is magical in itself.

Snow seems to pop out from the clouds, gaining momentum as it falls through its own purple grey backdrop.

I was listening to the cars passing and having checked the weather forecast last night was confident that the predictions for sleet in our town were accurate. I didn’t want anything to hamper today’s lunch party- with snow sweeping in from West to East across the central belt and pals coming from deep within this catchment. I was sure we would be fine. And then there was that tell-tale hush, and I looked out to see big fat perfect snow falling in the garden. I couldn’t help but smile, but also worried that if things worsened lunch would have to be called off.

The birthday girl texted at 0830 to say how much she was looking forward to ‘today’s shenanigans’ and could she bring anything. I replied that all was sorted and just to bring her sweet self, adding, ‘Do you have any snow?’. The response came back a few minutes later ‘Ooh, yes, I’ve only just looked’. At this point Jack and I were in the middle of a snow storm on the golf course and he was beginning to resemble more of a Dalmation than a Labrador.

Jack loved the snow and literally threw himself whole-heartedly into making doggy snow angels – writhing and twisting in the cooling softness. He eagerly chased his ball and revelled in the build up of the snow on it which he carefully licked off. At one point he was nudging the ball forward  with his nose as if to create a giant snow ball, and then nibbling the edges so the snow fell into his mouth.

I kept to a relatively tight routine and fore-shortened our walk, tempting as it was to keep going. Upon arriving home it was a tough call as to whether to get myself ready and then go out to get last minute things or the other way round. In the end I made the decision to pop into town before it go too busy and before I ran out of time. Of course two of the shops I wanted didn’t open till after 0930, but the others did. It was a good call, I was back home within 25minutes and could concentrate on creating that all-important 80s vibe, adorning walls with posters of The A-Team, Ghost Busters, Adam Ant et al.

By the time my dear friends arrived, one dressed as Madonna, another Boy George and the third in typical 80s gear as Shirley from Wham, with a cool “Choose Life’ T-shirt the snow had all but gone. I was channelling my inner Chrissie Hynde, the food was ready and the party could begin.

Of course when I checked my to do list later there were a few things I hadn’t achieved but nobody seemed to notice and a lot of fun was had. The perfect snow melted.

Perfect Snow – a poem

Laced in grey – purple, green, pink

each flake unique

watch them as they fall

layer upon layer until

hills and undulations

reveal dips and hollows

as only the long grass claims the light.

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