Monday, 24 November 2008

Happy dogs

I woke yesterday morning to that peculiar silence that denotes snow. It didn't last long: two delighted dogs announced their intention of spending as much time as possible playing snow ploughs, so could I please get up now, and get my boots on?


Admittedly, it wasn't a great deal of snow, but the dunes were almost deserted, and the girls rushed about like puppies. I honed my tracking skills - lots of activity here at Rabbit Central (a large windswept thorn bush): while no-one had been up the main path before us except for a solitary fox:
By the afternoon it had all thawed, and there was the sound of dripping all evening. The Cheviot, however, remains white, and today there have been several squally hailstorms. Brrr. I hope the fingerless gloves I've ordered arrive soon, my hands get cold when I type. The dogs, meanwhile, are stretched out in front of a warm stove, basking.

6 comments:

Table Talk said...

Yes, you know immediately when there's snow, don't you. Not only is there a different quality to the silence, but the light seeping through the curtains is entirely other as well. Which is why I knew we hadn't had the threatened snow when I woke on Sunday morning. Definitely threatened in my case. I'm neurotic about snow, always have been. I hate it. I'm afraid I can't see the beauty for the thought of the inconvenience it's going to cause everyone and the sheer filth of the melting slush. Romance is definitely dead in my soul!

GeraniumCat said...

I do sympathise with your dread of snow - I can't enjoy it at all in a city and used to hate snowy days in Edinburgh when all the hills become treacherous to walk on. I didn't like it much as a child, either, with a long trudge to school, a terrifying hill to climb and feet and hands raw with chilblains. I'm so licky now to be able to enjoy it occasionally now ehen there is bright sunlight and crisp snow - and as I write this, there is a fieldfare in the tree opposite my window!

elizabethm said...

I do so understand both the dread and the delight!
Love the idea of your dogs basking.

mountainear said...

The silence of snow is a wonderful thing - I feel no dread just anticipation. Love the profound silence of a power cut too.

What's this about typing in gloves - fingerless or not? Just how frozen is your north?

Rob Clack said...

Brrr!

GeraniumCat said...

Elizabeth, the dogs love the idea of basking too!

M'ear, the north is pretty frozen, but we've got a very draughty house too! I do my best to proof it but it's not very effective, we need some windows replacing.

Rob, quite!