Snow.
It is snowing in London and for some reason I keep bursting into tears. Somehow it has a sound, a sweet sound, a hush from a mother’s breath. The eucalyptus and bamboo are bending in the garden, and the streets are dotted with the lovely he went this way, she went that way of hundreds of footprints. In the distance I can hear the telltale laughs and screams of a snowball war. The pups sleep soundly on the sofa after their first snow experience… a buffet of powdered, mouth chilling goodness, biting here chomping there running back and forth attempting to find the best bits. I have baked cookies and made a pot of tea for friends. What a lovely way to come home to the city… wrapped in white, snow bound, but at the same time set totally and utterly free.
