Sunday, 5 February 2012

Announced by all the trumpets of the sky, arrives the snow...

 ...and, driving o'er the fields,
Seems nowhere to alight: the whited air
Hides hills and woods, the river, and the heaven,
And veils the farmhouse at the garden's end.
The sled and traveller stopped, the courier's feet
Delayed, all friends shut out, the housemates sit
Around the radiant fireplace, enclosed in a tumultuous privacy of storm. 

Ralph Waldo Emerson


Yes, people of the world - only a pathetic 5 or 6 inches, but that's a lot for us, honest. Enough for the whole country to grind to a standstill. Except for those of us who think, with stiff British upper lip, of Scott of the Antarctic and especially Captain Oates.


"I am just going outside and may be some time."

I love it. The horses love it.


Olive Oyl performed magnificently - her first venture out in the snow. Memories of years of sliding about in a front-wheel-drive Vauxhall Omega evaporated in an instant.


And now I'm back, safe and warm and considering myself to be very lucky, haunted by the thought of homeless people. 

I could DO something, not just THINK something.