Snow place like home — making the most of the arctic weather

I HAVE never felt myself luckier to live on a farm than I did last week, during the stunning snow.

This was the heaviest snow I’ve ever seen in this country.

When my alarm went at 7am on the first morning, what struck me was the silence. Our house is a short distance from the road and, at that hour of the day, there is usually a steady hum of traffic.

Turning out of bed, an intense brightness was seeping into the room, around and between the curtains. Pulling them apart, the scene was one of dazzlingly white, enchanted, stillness, straight out of movie.

I know there are many serious sides to the snow — economic ones, climatic ones, personal hardship — and apologies to anyone upset by this light-hearted babble. But it’s important to take enjoyment when and where you can.

Usually when we look up at our sky, it is criss-crossed with the contrails of planes but the vivid blueness was remarkably streak-free until the afternoon.

As the day wore on, a few cars started to stir on the road but so tentative was their movement that they seemed apologetic for disturbing the spell.

In the yard, there were no problems and, as soon as all the cattle were fed and bedded, everyone knocked off for the day and we headed indoors for some much-needed sustenance.

It was lovely to be out in it by choice, even nicer to be able to come in from it. The view through each window was more beautiful than the previous. Snow sat on hedges and trees. When there was a gust of wind, a branch would be shaken and its covering of snowflakes swept off, to flutter groundward like magic dust.

Every now and then, there was a fresh snow flurry. Feathery snowflakes twirled down, unhurried, untroubled, taking the scenic route, because the man who made time made lots of it.

There is a notion that extreme weather events bring out the best in people. They do. But its also true that a great many good things happen in our society every day. Yet we don’t hear about them. It’s a strange irony. People say they are tired of hearing bad news but good news doesn’t sell papers.

Domestic duties done after lunch, I got some meat out of the freezer for the following day. A freezer is a great security. Many farms have them.

Wrapped up warm, I headed for a walk down the farm.

Bleached white cotton sheets stretched taut over the rolling fields and, surrounding them, recently trimmed hedges sat like upturned yard brushes.

No one else had travelled that ground since the snow started so I left fresh tracks in the pristine landscape. I could have been the first living thing to have ever passed that way. I felt very big… and very small.

But, mainly, I felt blessed, for the beautiful place in which I live and for the life that I have.