SAVOURING A WINTRY CHARM

AS the arctic weather descends, I find myself walking across a bridge paved with snow and ice at snail’s pace lest I fall. The cold snap is the result of high pressure over Iceland and low pressure in the south which is feeding cold air over Ireland.
The first snowflake fell around midnight about a month ago and I roused my daughter from her bed because she had not seen one. When we opened the front door, we found that we were not alone, as others had also emerged from under their cosy electric blankets to catch the wintry charm. Soon we were making snowballs and pelting at each other, right at midnight. Others were taking photos of the snow and the footprints left behind.

Every season has its own beauty.

Winter by far is the last season of the year and makes a grand entrance, like the fat lady who sings at the end of the show.

It is after all the culmination of all the days that had been and the promise of better days to come.
Winter spells a white landscape and a different living style.

A white landscape is something that takes everyone by surprise overnight even if it happens every year.

I went to sleep when the leaves were still golden brown to find them suffering from premature aging the next day for they had turned completely white.
Rooftops looked like they had been covered with royal icing and snow people dotted the gardens that were once green Snow people would be the politically correct term these days as we have the traditional snowman with hat, carrot nose and twigs for hands and the avant-garde snowwoman who wears a broad smile and a bra.

I heard over the radio that a woman had called the police to investigate the fact that someone had stolen her snowman because she had put coins where his eyes should be.

I thought it sounded ridiculous and ludicrous.

Truly, winter brings a different lifestyle.

Temperatures have plummeted to as low as minus 5º C. I cannot just hop into my car and drive away without checking the weather forecast first.

Snow showers, ice and freezing fog are the order of the day. There are strange terms like black ice and grit and salt that pepper conversations.
Black ice refers to a thin, unexpected and nearly invisible coating of ice on a roadway or walkway surface. As my house is on a slope, we are advised to park our cars elsewhere on level ground when brakes will not work on slippery roads. Then when I saw town council workers busy working in the freezing cold with luminous safety jackets, I asked them curiously what they were doing.

“We are putting grit on the roads, so the people won’t fall. We have enough grit in stock to keep the country’s road network accessible as we brace ourselves for a bitterly cold snap.” He said and showed me the bits of grit which looked like small stones. People are also buying salt to help melt the snow on their driveways. In Dublin, winter maintenance crews would use in the region of 100 tonnes of salt every night when the snow is severe.

My car is covered with ice every night and I pour warm water over the windscreen in the morning.

Clothes that are partially dried would be draped over the radiators to take advantage of the heat. I have learnt how to start a fire in a fireplace and images of Enid Blyton’s characters and toasting marshmallows in the fireplace all seem so real.

Being a clothes horse, one of the nice things about winter is I can wear beautiful coats, woolen scarves and hats that would otherwise have made me melt under the Malaysian heat.