I realise I am being selfish but the snow made everything quieter and my well-being improved as a result.
Yes, I missed hearing the birds singing but I did not miss the assault of man-made noise. At least the rain kept the latter at bay for today.
I still enjoy a few days of snow every winter. It makes a change from the boring grey drab landscape.
My late mother never understand why we as children were exited by the snow. She hated snow and repeatedly described her childhood in prewar Poland. How there, when it started snowing in November, it didn't melt completely until April. Every winter they had large snowdrifts. And nobody made a fuss, they just cleared the snow and got on with life. She found it incredible that here after a couple of inches. Roads were blocked, schools were shut and all the fuss. Back in her childhood after a heavy overnight snowfall of two or three feet. Families dug themselves out, made paths and walked on top of the snow like normal.
What she found unusual was the way here lying snow only lasted a few days. Then it snows again a month later, melts after a few days. Weird!
Did she miss it - real snow, I mean, the kind you can play in and simply brush off your clothes? If you know that from childhood it seems to bring back memories of a lot of happiness for most people.
My mother hated snow and often described her worst experiences of coping with severe weather. Down to -30C people coped. Houses were well insulated and people wore extra clothes. Any colder and ..........️
How her village shared a church with a neighboring village. And her mother was very religious and insisted on going to church every Sunday. One very severe winter in the 1930s her mother was determined to go to church ( in the next village). My grandfather and the other children refused because it was just too cold and the snow too deep.
So just the two of them set out. They arrived after a two hour struggle thru the snow at the church which was freezing cold. There was nobody from her village, only about ten people from the other village. And the service was very short.
They almost died in the snow getting home.
Afterwards my mother was ill in bed for weeks with a temperature and fever. My grandmother never recovered her health and had a cough for the rest of her short life.
And she hated snow for the rest of her life.
I love your stories and how you keep them all so well preserved and ordered in your mind. You have an incredible mind and I just love how you order words. I’m sure there’s a message in that story somewhere! Lol! I enjoyed it anyway. Thank you.
Easy to remember stories when I hear them twice a year for over thirty years.
Real difficulty for me is being able distinguish her facts from fiction.
Does it matter, is there really a distinction? They’re just great stories, I love em.
It matters to me. When it's about me. I remember some of my past differently than her. And I get upset when we disagreed. Such as being sent with a group to a holiday in Wales when I was eight. I hated the experience. Then being sent again two years later.
The question being why I went the second time if I hated the first holiday?
I remember being told that I'm going and that's it. No discussion!
She claimed that I said that i wanted to go.
Then there are other stories that precede me. When she got married she was living in my father's household with his family. She claims that when she got pregnant (with my sister). They threw the two of them out of the house. Telling them that they didn't want or have space for her smelly #@#@@. So they should get out and find their own place to live (At very short notice).