We had a cold snap in December, and it snowed. It doesn’t often snow in these parts and when it does, it rarely sticks. So we were excited to see the snow slowly smudge and spread over the night streets. I woke early, dithering about when I should go out to experience the snow, when my friend Zoe texted. Are you going out, she asked? It’s really beautiful. I think you should. And with those words of encouragement, I woke my daughter and together we ventured out to see our world made white, several cameras in tow.
We started up the hill, realising the snow was deeper than we had originally thought and made a quick return home to pick up the sledge. The roads were empty and quiet as we focused on the sound of our feet crunching through the fresh snow, the swish of the sledge behind us.
There were few people on the roads and even fewer cars as we made our way to the park. Our favourite views had been monochromed, made vaster by the lack of colour. The city’s silence made the tall buildings seem smaller, put in their place by the brooding snow clouds
Onwards to look at more of our favourite haunts, through our new snow lens. The cherry-tree avenue, golden in the Autumn, fluffy baby pink in the Spring, was now stark and majestic.
For our finale, we sledged, laughing and jollying each other as we hurtled down the hill—and looked forward to the hot chocolate we would drink on our return home.