snow.

Massive large flakes of white icy are falling, drifting, slamming, swirling, whispering, tumbling all over London tonight.

It's absolutely quiet.

And then there are giggles. People laying in the road to make snow angels. Snowballs arrive, splat, at my feet when I re-leave with camera. Laughing, sliding, snow packing men, who know not each others' language, are playing catch and release with freshly clean fallen snow, at a King's Cross bus stop.

Big window forehead on the second floor of a red bus becomes opaque. It winds more and more slowly through London's white streets, getting me home, eventually, somewhere between East and North.

My feet wear Moon Boots and their impressions make tight renderings down the street. Cars inch along. One dog who has never seen or felt or smelled the snow is ebulliently romping through Newington Green. A group of friends jump the fence to make one tiny snowman.

Snow teased from the skies during daytime. Flurries came and went, and came back again. But they were just whispered swirls, teasing.

And then at night, long after Sunday Roast was completed and we retired to couches, snow, like angelic bandits, snuck into London

                                and stole the show.

We quickly cleared fog from windows and, like small children, oooohed and ahhhhhhhed at the whitewhite everywhere!

        SNOW!!!!

I texted America. I smiled and laughed and talked to strangers. People were mesmerized.What will the morning bring, we all wondered, as we tucked into bed.

    How will I get to work? Will the Overground run?

London isn't prepared for snow that sticks. There's no plan of action for snow plowing and cheap salt on every corner for the taking. Snow plows don't rest in the corner near umbrella buckets.

I don't care. Snow. It makes me happy. Too excited to sleep, one friend said. London snow.

            {My first snowstorm since 1996, NYC.}

Snow!

Absolutely lovely, wondrous, whimsical, beautiful, quiet, pretty, chilly, magical.            A ballet of snowflakes. Dancing to the intimacies of breeze, the sweet nothings of whispers.

Comments

[Anna Banana]

I'm jealous you live in London. Glad to know you're enjoying the snow. Love your new photo.

[Shankie]

Enjoy the silence of fresh fallen snow and the crackling sound when you are the first to step into it.

I hope you didn't have to much trouble this morning though =)

[Carol Blymire]

I truly believe the best things in life can happen when it snows.

[sam]

I loved those days. I guess I gave them up, along with the glitter when I moved to the US. Love the new pic! Did you know I once had a registered company called "SamSparkles Ltd". It was on account of my sparkly, glittery, sequinny reputation.

[lemontart]

We too, in Vancouver, recently had a rash of unusually snowy days. And while everyone else is complaining because our city is also unprepared for lots of now, I was hoping for more, hoping to be stranded, hoping to swish through it. It quiets and romanticizes everything if you let it.

[vicki abbott]

Lovely writing, Shuna!

The content reminds me of late December 2008 in Portland, Oregon - we had up to 2 feet of snow and temperatures were below freezing for 2 weeks. Poor Portland, like London, has no infrastructure to deal with this, it's so rare (last time this happened was 30 years ago) so the busses didn't run, most people didn't make it to work, cars stayed in their garages, neighbors made grocery runs for those of us intent on avoiding falls on the snow-covered ice. And it was a perfect time to bake gingerbread.