This was the view from my loft window at first light, Sunday morning.
Although I have witnessed a first snow every year for 44 years (some of which I, of course, don't recall), this blanket of whiteness which appears out of nowhere never ceases to at first shock - and then as the reality of it sinks in - amaze me. Its ability to render my once familiar landscape almost unrecognizable is delightful. Brown, soggy earth is made pristine and pure. The heap of compost is no longer an eyesore. My collection of rusting metal - destined to become 'art'- is transformed overnight into whipped cream spackled sculpture.
And before the snow plow turns and churns this blindingly white blanket into mounds of dirty mashed potatoes, I will try and retain every perfect moment of this first snow.