This week we’ve been enjoying a flurry of snow in our little village (and all over the country if my Facebook newsfeed is anything to go by). I got a bit excited and skipped out into the garden in my slippers to take some pictures of this wondrous sight. We have a very tall Christmas tree that started out life as little more than a sapling in a pot in our living room one Christmas. After the festivities and because we couldn’t be bothered to take it to the tip, Pud planted our little Christmas friend in the garden. We never imagined that it would even carry on growing, let alone shoot up like Jack’s beanstalk, until it towered majestically over the bungalow next door. A couple of years ago, late one Christmas Eve, our neighbour took his life into his hands and balanced a beautiful clear acrylic star right at the top of our tree. Christmas Day was extra magical for Molly and Eddy that year as they wondered how the star had got there. I love our tree and I especially love how the snow stubbornly clings to it even on the breeziest winter’s day.
Talking of stubbornly clinging on, I found myself sledging this week for the first time in about, ooooh, twenty years. My intention had been to take a lovely snow-lined walk, armed with a flask of piping hot coffee, to my picnic table at Bradgate Park (I’m painfully aware that I haven’t been there since I stumbled upon the idea of visiting said park on a regular basis). Instead, Molly was sent home from school due to health and safety/staffing issues* and before I knew it I was offering to purchase a sledge from our local hardware store.
*ie, teachers can’t be arsed to venture out in the cold
And what a magnificent sledge it is! I decided to pay the extra £2.50 and upgrade to a large model, comfortably seating one adult and one child. What it doesn’t seat, however, is one adult and two children. I found this out the hard way when Molly and her friend talked me into taking the reins and I balanced precariously at the front while they wedged themselves in behind me.
When people talk about accidents and say ‘It all seemed to happen in slow motion’, they’re not lying. I could feel the sledge veering at a strange angle. I could feel the girls slowly peeling away from me. I could even feel the sledge turning over. I couldn’t stop it though!
And when I landed face down in the snow, with Molly on top of me and Molly’s friend and the sledge some distance away, I realised we’d crashed. Molly tells me my snow-frosted eyebrows looked particularly fetching……..
This morning, I feel like I’ve put my back out in about six places and my arms are throbbing from clinging on for dear life. It was great to feel like a kid again though and I can’t wait for more snow!