Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow
CAN there be a more exciting way to wake up than to pull back the curtains and find that it has snowed heavily in the night? I feel the same thrill today that I felt as a child. The same wonder at a world so completely transformed. A strangely silent world, in which every sound is muffled, so the crack of ice or the bark of a distant dog seems intrusive. A completely white world in which all ugliness has been hidden and everything is clean and perfect.
On the first morning after new snow, routine is banished. Each habitation, whether of Man or beast, is like an island, private and cut off. The same blanket of snow that obliterates also reveals. The fox’s morning hunt, the rabbit’s visit to his neighbour, the bird’s search for breakfast—all is chronicled. Self-sufficiency is
