Day 21: Cookies & Cream

If walking through the icy slush a few weeks ago was like "walking in brown sugar", then today was like cookies & cream ice cream.  Not nearly so yummy, I'm sure (I didn't try it), but the walkways have become a combination of white snow, dark brown chunks of slush that have frozen into hard pieces, and little bits of grit sprinkled over everything.

My car had a spot of bother yesterday: something strange happened with the exhaust that made Otis suddenly roar like a racing car - and drive at about half the speed!.  My first port of call when 'something weird' happens with my car is to go around back and peer underneath to see if there is anything blatantly obvious.  (One time I panicked about my car breaking down only to find out that there was a huge tree branch that had lodged itself underneath the car's frame.  Kind of funny, later.)  So this time there was...something...definitely hanging at an odd angle, and I couldn't even find my exhaust pipe.  Not a good sign.

At any rate, the point of this story is that I rang up my favourite garage this morning (Brownsburn) and bless their hearts, on their last day before they finish for Christmas, they took it in and had a look at it, and are fixing it for me today.  These guys are legendary.  I can't tell you the number of times they've looked at and fixed my car before a holiday, before I leave on holiday, early in the morning, late at night...they're amazing. And they never complain or snap at me like I've had happen at other garages in the past - stuff like "There's no possible way we can take it, sorry" or "We've had your car for two days and we haven't had a chance to look at it yet".

So, after roaring my way through Airdrie at the early hours of the morning, I chose to walk back home.  The sun was just rising and pale oranges and pinks were tinting the clouds.  Everything is still completely outlined in snow, making every tree, bush, leaf, fencepost, housetop, and post office box a work of art.  I enjoyed my walk very much, even getting so warm that I didn't need my gloves and scarf.  Naturally after all that great exercise I was starving, so I went for a McDonald's breakfast.  Not exactly healthy, but it was sure good.  I think I'll go make some hot chocolate now and start packing for Cyprus!

Day 10: Snow Feathers

One of the most beautiful things about snow is how it changes.  One day it's little pellets striking at your face; another day you can see big flakes, beautiful in their individuality, landing on your gloves.  Some days it comes thick and fast; other days it floats lazily down and you hum 'Silent Night' as you watch it.

Today I stepped out for my walk.  I expected a long one as the sun is out and I had the afternoon before me: but I didn't get a few feet out my door before I was stopping to pull out the camera.  The snow is like individual sparkling feathers, and when the sun catches it, there are diamonds everywhere.  You want to reach out and touch them.  At one place I stopped to walk through this feathered snow where no one else had passed, and it had a sound like fine sand - whishhh, whishhh, instead of the usual schoonk, schoonk (or, sometimes, a soft crunch, crunch).  I wish I could take a picture of a sound, but just close your eyes and imagine fine white sand pouring from one vessel into another, and you'll hear the sound of walking through snow feathers.

It was about -9 during the day while the sun was shining.  Strange to feel very warm, with my scarf tied close around my neck, and also very cold at the same time.  My face felt frozen into position so that I struggled to smile at those I passed.  One of those I passed was a guy walking into Morrisons, saying to his mate, "Okay, so I need bread, milk, sausages, and Irn Bru."  Basic Scottish needs.  I stopped to take a photo of the train tracks, and an older lady and her husband stopped to speak with me, and we discovered we are neighbours.  She had seen me clearing the road in our estate on Saturday.  Imagine leaving my flat for a long walk and running into two people who live almost next door to me!  

I walked a long way today - probably three hours at least.  Everywhere I went there was beauty.  You could even see the distant mountains, what the Bible calls the "everlasting hills", from certain heights.  I even walked through a cemetery - normally quiet and peaceful places, they are even more so when covered with snow.  A lonely bird perched on a celtic cross surveyed its position, and me, before flying haughtily away. I had disturbed it, and it was not best pleased. Walked past a flowing stream, with the water steaming up where it met the cold air.  A lone tree in a wood.  Quiet, quiet everywhere. 

After a few hours I walked past a friend's house, and they spied me from the window and invited me in for a cup of tea.  I delayed them an hour whilst I caught the end of the setting sun, and then nipped in on my way home.  By this time the sun was setting, and I was so cold I could hardly speak.  It took me a few minutes to get my wellies off (having learned my lesson yesterday, I had three pairs of socks on, so thick it's difficult to get the wellies off! - but my feet were not blocks of ice today!), and they graciously gave me not only a cup of black coffee (is there anything nicer), but a bowl of soup and sandwiches to go with it!  It was difficult to hoist myself together and venture out into the negative temperatures to walk home, but it was lovely to know that my warm cosy flat was waiting patiently for me, as always.

Walk Length: Approx 3.5 hours

Postscript, Day 3: Back In Time

I took a very, very mini walk tonight to get my dinner.  The local Chinese was actually open!  (Although the lady who ran it kept answering the phone and explaining that no, there were no deliveries, and we all laughed.)

Snow at this level makes me feel like I've gone back fifty - or maybe a hundred - years.  The roads are so quiet, and still.  The noise of drivers and driving is gone.  People are walking everywhere.  There are greetings being passed across the road - "Hiya, nice to see you" and "Aye, I'll come by later".

Laughter floats across the cool night air and the street lamps cover everything with a soft orange glow.  Everyone talks to each other, they share stories about how they were stuck or couldn't get to work or didn't want to bother going to work.  The news is on the telly, but we get the most important news from each other.  "Is the post office open, do you know?"  "Aye, they were saying the football match is postponed indefinitely."  "Is the airport still shut?"  And a random stranger to sympathise with your hard times, or laugh at your snow story.

It's heartwarming.  Almost makes you want to go back a hundred years.

But then you wouldn't hear from me. :)

Day 2: Fool Me Once

Classic schoolgirl error, as one of my friends would put it.  I looked out the window at snow softly falling, and as it slowed down I thought, 'Beautiful time for a walk!'  I layered up, suited up, booted up (wellied up?), and launched forth.  I even took my camera bag with me in case I saw some beautiful scenery on my walk.

The first minute and a half were lovely.  The sun shone through on a tree with red berries, and I stopped to take a photo.  The sky was blue.  There is almost a foot of snow on the ground.  My wellies made that muffled crunching sound that is peculiar to snow.  Ah, walking in all weathers.  This isn't so bad!

Five minutes later, it had begun to snow lightly.  Still lovely; still a nice morning walk. I passed a shop with laughter floating out as everyone discussed the unusual weather for Airdrie in November.  An old woman passed me on the bridge and we smiled and said 'Good morning', and wasn't it a lovely day?  I could see the sun rising against the mountains and snow-covered trees everywhere.  The fresh air made me feel alive, brisk, alert.
  
Ten minutes after that I had my head down, snow pellets attacking me from all round, and not a beautiful scenic photo in sight.  I took refuge underneath an old bridge, gave thanks for my Lowepro Slingshot camera bag (which has a handy little weather-jacket to pull up and around the bag to protect it in all weathers), pulled my hat down and my scarf up, and tramped on.  Now I was passing the effects of difficult weather.  A man with a flat tyre, pumping a jack in the driving snow. A man carrying a small child, being pelted not only by snow but by the interminable "why's" of a three year old.  Cars who were driving more slowly than I was walking.  Countless cars stuck in snow and ice and muck, and drivers still attempting to dig themselves out.  (Obviously heading for places or events of critical importance).

I took a 40-minute walk today, not because I intended to, but because that's how long a 15 minute walk took today!   Fool me once, weather, shame on you....

The snow is still coming down, in huge flakes now instead of pellets.  I'm warm and comfortable and very thankful that I took my walk at the start of the day - because the snow is a foot high, and more is still falling!

Excelsior, indeed!