It was one of those deceptive winter days. Sunshine and blue skies made me a bit lenient in regard to outer clothing, especially after a walk and a hot shower one could fell trees and wear shorts, but was quite shocked to notice a minus two degrees on the chariot's dashboard. Ah, the mystery of fumble fingers was explained.
Mum gave me a lovely pair of cut-off-mittens ( don't know how else to describe those woolen props of another era ) which are fantastic to manoever steering wheels, cameras or keys. I like them because I don't need to constantly take off my gloves in order to take a photo although, some mornings the top of my fingers are numb to the world.
Bob told me just now that snow is on the way. A snowflake, a snow load or a snow in? The concept of snow still holds a touch of romance and nostalgia for me although, at times its halo is slipping. Is there anything better than waking up to a snow covered neighbourhood, seeing a roof turn white, a branch bend in a perfect arch and the pitter patter of bird's feet imprinted for as long as the thaw can be kept at bay?
The big thaw, which tends to happen on and off is the thorn in winter's side and the spoiler for many. When thaw makes a mingling of snow and mud certain, shoes outrageously dirty and cars grey and even at times invisible, the love of winter dwindles...but only a little bit.