Welcome

Following the crowning of my NHS experience with a stint at a PCT and the resulting redundancy (traumatic, though much wanted and worked for), my husband and I are going back to my roots near a small village in Smaland, Sweden. These are our experiences.

Tuesday, December 6, 2011

The First Snow

Fir trees, on the whole, aren’t good for much.  They are thick, dark green and, unless you are a small beetle or a survivalist, are boring, boring, boring. Until the first snow falls. They then get transformed into a clump of magic and from every single one you expect to find a singing dwarf or growling troll.  Fortunately, life is full of disappointment.  On one of my walks there is a stand of firs, surrounded by birch trees.  It’s normally on the boring bit of the walk, but when the sun was glistening on the lattice of the birch branches and the white edged firs were sparkling against the pale blue sky yesterday, it was so beautiful that one had to sit down and appreciate it.  Obviously, that would be stand for a few minutes, cos sitting in the snow is not really to be recommended, being somewhat cold and wet.

The first snow cheers everyone up.  It’s what people have been waiting for, the reason for the winter tyres and the other equipment and, of course, the opportunity to have more outdoor fun.  By this the Swedes mean winter sports, which, in my experience mean sitting in the snow a lot.  We all know that the first snow will melt before long, but the beauty and hope is still there.  They will also say that everything is so gray until the snow comes, but this is only in their heads.  It is certainly more sparkly, in the sun, but in the clouds, the landscape has just shades of white going through to black.  Although, looking out of the window now, the chestnut brown of the wet pine trunks glows against the pearl grey sky, so I guess everything depends on how you look at it.

The kitten certainly enjoys the snow and is out-doors more now in minus temperatures than when it was 3 degrees and rainy. I think I’ll have to train her to get the wood and stuff as it requires to my horror, a different type of dressing.  Trouser legs have to be tucked in and it will will have to be fur-lined wellies at the back door from now on. The snow goes over the top of the clogs – ghastly. I also have to dive out of the front door before Graham goes to the car.  This isn’t some sort of marriage survival technique, but the snow has to be swept off the steps before it’s trodden in and becomes bobbly ice (technical term).

Well, it’s minus one, 4 cm of snow on the ground and some more in the air. Do I go for a walk or do I put another log on the fire, dig out the cocoa and put the Wii Sport on?  Excuse me, whilst I hitch the cat to the wood sled and decide what to do next.