WET SNOW

It did snow then. I got into trouble for not saying ‘it’s snowing, it’s snowing’ when I tweaked the Venetian blinds and peeked outside. At the time, it was swirling wet stuff that blew about in the lamp light. Apparently you’re supposed to get very excited and text everybody. I didn’t mention it.

Later, it was settling. The cars and road were quiet, white, and the snowflakes were still falling. We went out in it.

How many words did they say Inuits had for snow? I think I understand why. We only have one (snow) and we have to qualify it with an adjective each time - fluffy, frozen, fallen, compacted, yellow… none of which would do in this case. No, this was, if anything, ‘wet’ snow. Cold, wet, rainy snow. I knew it before the front door had closed behind us. It was the blustery sleet that stings cold cheeks, and patters gently on rain jackets. Nevertheless, out we went, crunching our way over white (fallen) snow.

I wish it would stay around longer. By midnight it was raining. This morning, the last remaining patches are being washed away. As predicted, the family up north have been building snowmen and sharing pics via WhatsApp. I’m tempted to text everyone saying ‘it’s raining, it’s raining!’ but I think that might be just far too sarcastic.