Today was the first truly snowy day of the winter. As soon as it was light, I saw chunks of wet, melting snow fall off trees behind our house, so there was no time to lose. After breakfast, my husband, our son and I all got dressed in our warmest clothes, and went out into the backyard to play in the snow that had fallen during the night. It was only three or four inches deep, but there was enough snow to cover everything in sight. My husband and I had a great time. The snow was easy to pack, and we made snow balls and even a small snow man. Our son, on the other hand, was a bit terrified of the stuff and refused to be set down in the snow, even after I had tamped down a circle for him. I guess that's what comes from being half Angelino, half Londoner. For him, the idea of a “c(h)ino” from a nearby coffee shop was much more appealing, so we bundled him into his pushchair and set out of our front door. (Living in a terraced house means that the back door only leads to a fenced-in garden, so everything from the backyard, grass clippings to sawed trees to us, must exit the property through the front door.) It was slow going down the sidewalk. No one had shovelled, and we thought we might have to carry our son, sedan-chair style. The streets, however, were carless, so we pushed the stroller through the tire tracks left by the few people who had driven down the unplowed roads. I'm not sure if the streets were so empty because it was early on a Sunday morning, or because the snow kept people inside. On our half mile walk, we only encountered two or three cars before we reached the main street.
For the most part, fresh snow makes the world more beautiful, hiding not only the grays and browns of winter, but also giving everything a pleasing uniformity. This was especially true of the terraced houses we passed, who (like ours) only have about 8 feet of fenced-in cement between their front doors and the sidewalk. The space is filled with wheelie bins. Even in a single-family house, there are three – one for the trash, one for recycling and another for yard waste. Flats have even more. Ugly sculptures, Christmas trees, and old toys collect in these cement areas. And the snow hid it all. Why is it that snowy days are often windless and even warmer than their snowless counterparts? And the sound is different. The world is quieter when covered in snow. I felt invigorated by our short walk, warmed by the effort of taking my turn pushing the stroller.
When we arrived, the coffee shop was open, (to our slight surprise) and there was already a man reading the Observer in the corner. We ordered our usual - “c(h)inos” and pains au chocolat. The coffee shop is run by Algerians who not only make good pastries, but a decent cup of coffee, too. Although we occasionally bump into other families with young children, the clientele are mostly gray-haired Guardian (or Observer) readers. Unlike the coffee shops who cater to “yummy mummies,” this one has no high chairs, and so my son gets his own armless leather chair. For some reason, (foamy milk sprinkled with cocoa powder?) it is one of the few times he will sit still. This morning, my husband and I even managed to have a five minute conversation about spliced commas and en dashes before we remembered that our son was sitting on his own, and with a full and very tippable mug in front of him.
When we left, we walked back past the farmers' market. The stalls were still being set up, and a man had a large, thin board that he was using as a shovel to clear a path for customers. I like how unprepared everyone here is for snow. I like that things have to shut down, that sidewalks can't be shovelled, that people need to invent makeshift ways of clearing paths. There's something to be said for a little inefficiency in the world.
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