Until this year, that was what I would call to the children. Over the last dozen years it has snowed so infrequently in Edinburgh that I would shout to the children to come to the window to watch the snow fall.
As a faithful follower of the snowflake, each winter I would sacrifice a little something to the Pagan gods of the seasons to send some decent, over-your-boots thick snow.
In 2010 the gods answered. In January we still had the snow left over from Christmas (that was a great 50th Birthday present), and in November, at this end of the calendar it has snowed, and snowed and, well, snowed. It’s deep, and crisp, and even. (Or, as King Wenceslas said when he phoned in his order to Pizza Palace: Deep pan, crisp and even).
So I’ve walked the dog in our favourite walking place, and I’ve armed myself with a camera. I’ve taken a whole heap of pictures, but this one I like cos it just shows how bloated with snow we are. Gorged with snow, stuffed. And the whole world looks so wonderful and joyous. Breathe in that cold, crisp air!