We were not forecast snow on this day, it was meant to be raining, but it was colder than expected, colder than hoped:
"Poor Tom's a cold"*.
When I opened the curtains the sight that greeted me was of a fluttery fine veil of snow.
I love how the front garden gets more defined by the snow. If it was not for the red of the car, the scene appears monochrome.
In the back garden the falling white leaches out what color there is.
Hours passed, the snow continued, finely and persistently."The tyranny of the open night's too rough
For nature to endure."*
It was showing no sign of stopping.
Then the weather began to turn, the day was not really that cold to begin with (it can be too cold to snow). Without pause, without a look back, the snow turned transparently into rain.
The fallen snow resisted the wash,
with the rain laying on top of it, not quite freezing but not warm enough to quickly thaw."Thou think'st 'tis much that this contentious storm
Invades us to the skin"*
As I watched the day unfold I could only muse on how many words for snow we fail to have.
The light started to go at the end of the day and the temperature continued to gently rise.
The snow slipped away from its perches, and by morning it would be all but gone. It would just be a memory of a snowy day that had the good manners not to snow too much, not to disrupt or freeze unsafely.It was beautiful whilst it lasted.
"Through the sharp hawthorn blows the cold wind.
Hum! go to thy cold bed, and warm thee."*
(*King Lear, Scene IV William Shakespeare)
