Winter is my favourite season.
I think it’s because it’s the season I can wear most clothes.
I like clothes.
Layered.
Then throughout the day peel them off if I feel like it.
To reveal a different uniform.
I find that interesting.
Overcoat… jacket… sweater… shirt… undershirt…
All at the same time.
Snow.
And I like snow too because it simplifies everything.
It hides the detail.
And the mess.
The unnecessary fuss and nonsense.
The uncut lawn and the beautifully manicured lawn look the same.
When I see freshly fallen snow, to me, it’s like someone hit the ‘reset’ button.
It reminds me that we don’t need this car or that car.
Because when all the cars in the street are covered in the same whiteness, I am reminded that cars are for getting you and me from here to there.
And how strange it is then that this car costs £5,000 and that one costs £50,000.
Under snow, they look so similar.
Children.
And then there are the children who, universally, love the snow.
Because it is new and fresh and – somehow – theirs.
Children elbow you and the rest of the world out of the way when their snow comes.
They want the first footprints in the snow to be their footprints.
Pause.
We grownups have a lot to contend with.
Snow somehow gets in the way of all these things that we adults have to do.
But we don’t have to think like that…
Winter’s gift of snow is your opportunity to stop.
Pause.
Relax.
Smile.
And watch the children.
Not much that the children do in the snow is for anything.
It’s very momentary.
And as we all know, the snow won’t last.
But for those short few minutes hours or maybe a couple of days, the snow – to them – is all that matters.
There’s a lot to be said for living in the moment.
And one of the greatest reminders of this, I think, is snow.
