Through deep snow

Ruth Walker of Kemback has been in touch. “I wrote a poem about the snow of 1947. At that time I was a Primary One pupil at Brechin High School.

“Miss Simon was our teacher. The snow was horrendous and Miss Simon remarked how wise the other parents were to keep their children at home on such a day! We had to go all the way back home to our house – Maisondieu Manse in Airlie Street, I think it was.” Walking to School

Walking through deep snow to school I pull out each wellington boot leaving holes in a frozen sea. Slush drips off my buttoned coat, powder trickles down my socks. Back to the wind, my mother shields me.

Her strong hands grasp my fingers as it gets harder

to pull out each booted foot. Snow covers my pixie hood,

falls so fast that I can barely see. My mother smiles,

encourages me: “Come on, we’re nearly there!”

We find the school submerged with white, we stamp our feet, step inside. There are no children running about. Miss Simon unbuttons my coat – she is amazed that we came out,

while other children have not turned up.

My mother sniffs, annoyed that we have come all this way while other parents have taken stock . She brushes off the snow, puts my nap coat back on me. Powder trickles down my sock, slush drips off my buttoned coat as we walk through the driven snow all the way back home from school.