The seduction of snow
On Wednesday last week, the first flakes started to land and they caught me unawares. I wasn’t prepared, yet, for snow. On Thursday, with my car roof covered in the white stuff, I made my way to the tyre shop to have my front tyres replaced with tyres which grip – not full winter tyres but better ones.
On Friday, the snow started falling properly and Saturday morning was very pretty. I love a fresh fall of snow, it hides all the blemishes and gives a smooth clean appearance. The novelty gets me every year without fail.
Sunday found me waking up in amazement at how much more had fallen. It was overwhelming. It was deep, it was true, it was stunning. I spent time with the snow, cosy in my home and shut off from the world. I was out revelling in the company of the snow. I was endeared to it. I saw it in all its glory in the trees, in the fields, on the roads closed to traffic.
On Monday I was speechless. The beauty and volume of the snow increased. The attention it sought was demanding, relentless even. It was creating an environment in which I had to find a way to respond to its requests in a way which worked for us both. The power of the snow though made me scared, it left me feeling a little vulnerable and unable to care for myself any longer.
Yes, the beauty and wonder of it was there for all to see and yet it was now disturbing my otherwise comfortable life. I began to wonder if there truly was a way to incorporate so much snow into my life. Would it allow me to see friends and family. My work was suffering. Could I escape? I was getting cabin fever.
I took a chance to regain control of my life, safely and with good reason. The presence of what had been sparkling fun and amusement had turned into a monster chaining me to the kitchen sink and draining my store cupboard of the essentials in my life. I crept out of the house with my kitchen broom and set to clearing the snow off The Green Goddess (my trusty old Volvo). I was knee deep and my courage was beginning to ebb.
I looked around me, I knew some people had dealt with their own monsters and took heart.
A few miles away lay the village, this is where I was heading. A one track road which had seen little in the way of preparation took me there. The shops looked as if a plague of locusts had descended recently. The shelves were bare, no milk, no bread. (Plenty of wine and cake though)
I drove back home gingerly and rather despondent. As I turned in to our cul-de-sac, the car ground to a halt. I’m not going back in she said. I dug, she fought, I dug, she fought. We reached a compromise. She’s half in and half out of the drive!
The snow remains a part of my life for the foreseeable future, I have faced the monster of its danger, it’s ferocity, and its gentleness. It has let me out and we now have a sneaky respect for one another.
The snow itself is not the whole problem, it’s our attitude to it. It’s the attitude of society which we collectively feed from, it’s the workings of the government/council to help us move around freely. It’s the very quick to fall in love and even faster out of it mentality when things (and our own fickleness) stop us from being ourselves.
Jackie Walker is a relationship therapist, you can find her on Twitter @JackieWalker