There's a romance about a snow-clad day like today. A carpet of fresh snow greets my morning. A sudden hush envelopes the world. There's not a stir on the road outside, not even an intrepid squirrel. The reverential silence fills my heart with an inexplicable gladness. The garden is a layer of white icing. Benevolent cotton clouds glisten on the shrubs. The old shed at the corner sits revived with a fresh white canopy. I saunter around, admiring the Christmas-card effect.
M and I use the transport chaos to work from home. At about 11ish, we get into a snow fight while making an out-of-shape snowman.
Then, I hear the laughter of children. A car or two zooms by.
It's one of those God's in His heaven, all's right with the world day.
7 comments:
aaah, Jane! Walking to work that morning, I remember how we used to throw snowballs at each other as well. I think there's something abt it that makes you all playful again. On the way to the station, children were throwing snowballs at each other, a mum was videoing them, and none were in a hurry to go to school. And yes, i was late - all because it was a different kind of snow - a sticky one!
Melady Jane:
That is a lovely lovely entry and below is my unworthy gift.
The Chairs, The Table And The Cloth We Dine On
(my gift to those who are fathers, mothers, sons, daughters, brothers and sisters)
On the chairs, the table and the cloth we dine on,
mama serve a sumptuous meal,
a sumptuous meal made from the hunt that papa kill,
the hunt that papa brought back on heavy old wheels.
On the chairs, the table and the cloth we dine on,
papa carved the luscious veal,
while mama kept our hunger vigil,
so that our little tummies feel no shrill,
till we have the night’s fill.
By the chairs, the table and the cloth we dine on,
papa stood on the site with his pipe lit,
cleaning blood that his hunt has spilled,
and chasing out the winter’s chill,
so that we feel no gritting frill,
after we had our night’s fill.
Round the chairs, the table and the cloth we dine on,
mama walks with a clean white cloth,
cleaning our mouth from filthy froth,
while kissing the sleepy eyes under the brows.
To the chairs, the table and the cloth we dine on,
we haste a bow and a cheery bye,
and wish the leftovers tomorrow they will dry,
that tomorrow again on you we dine,
with the meals mama made so fine,
made from the kills that papa find.
O chairs, table and cloth we dine on,
we trust that tomorrow would also be fine,
there you’ll wait for us to dine,
when we wake after the sun comes to shine.
oooooh, I love the snow! I love the snowman!! awwww... wish I could make snow angels right now out in some garden...
I love the snowman! I love the way you weaved your words. H was in London that day and was lamenting the cold & the traffic nightmare! I would've loved it, I know. :)
ahhh... i tot you're not going to post anything at all this month.
15 cm of snow in london i heard... how come it never snow when i was there? sigh....
it's absolutely burning here... wish i can freeze myself in the cold of winter in london.
KakTeh: Yes, the snow brings in the child in all of us!!!
Demonsinme: What a lovely piece. I wish I could respond in similar ilk but ...you'll probably laugh at my infantile attempt.
May: This is why you should have done a stop over in London!!!
Blabs: H was in London? Well, it is rather wet when you go out but I was toasty with the fire on so throughly enjoyed it! This is the first time I've experienced such a heavy snowfall in London though. YOu would have loved it.
Zewt: Be careful for what you wish for. Cold and damp weather for weak on ends is not exactly fun-the snow was just a small respite!
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