Gently pulling the bedroom blind up this morning I anticipated a view that corresponded to my inner child. Thick, deep snow, glistening in the weak morning sunlight, enticing me to pull on my thick Aran sweater, woollen tights and old Levi jeans. I am such a dreamer at times, carried away by my imagination, which instead of waning as I approach a new decade, (not letting on, which one) is more active than ever.
Despite the double glazed windows I could still hear the gentle roar of the wind, which held a promise of the lull before the storm. However, much to my disappointment and contrary to my expectations, the sleety snow was disappearing into the ground, leaving just a scattering of residue between the blades of grass on my lawn.
Oh well, maybe later I can walk through the snow, as according to the lovely and lively Des Coleman who reads the weather forecast with such joy in his voice , there is likely more to come.
For now, I will settle for a nice mug of tea, sat beside my cosy fire and once more remember my happy childhood, when I played in the snow with my siblings.