Snow day. Slow day. This was a day with no objective, no plan, a day untethered to the holiday routine.  We woke up early as the lovely Sharon had to return to work and the little people had to do what they do. The little people always get up early. 

It was cold. The first thing to do on such a day is to light the wood stove, begin to build up the heat. Around the stove is a cosy sanctuary for drying after bath time, for drying wet gloves and boots, for warming hands that build snow men. Ice men? Slush men?

The breakfast circus was next; a bit of everything, all sorts of delights.  Here I admit that, when the lovely Sharon left for work, I was not up as early as I should have been. Some things had already been served; brioche and bowls of dry cereal (cheerios). I made porridge, mostly for me. A spoonful of local honey was added. When I say ‘local’, of course I mean from about a dozen metres away. One jar left. One of only three jars this summer. The beehive split into three queens during the spring and summer. With so many mouths to feed, not enough foraging was carried out. One jar is empty. One jar was paid to my parents; a jar that was a minimum requirement in lieu of them having brought me up and provided a childhood*.  

*and a young adulthood*    

*who am I kidding, they are still looking after me, and out for me

Back to the breakfast circus. I made pancakes and dressed them with maple syrup. Then one of the little people demanded a bowl of granola and special K.  The kitchen was out of special K. The customer was placated by the chef (me) and assurances that an alternative of Mummy’s Christmas present berry muesli* was a more than adequate replacement for special K. 

*don’t tell Mummy

During a very long breakfast the little people peeled their eyes away from tablets and the xbox to look outside and scream “SNOW!”  Yet, they did not move.  They assessed and waited, and judged.  Then the moment came, and they decided it was time to slip on thick socks, boots, coats and waterproof gloves.  The littlest man could not find his gloves.  After some sleuthing we discovered that they were in the back of the lovely Sharon’s car, and far from us. We then discovered that the lovely Sharon’s very expensive winter mountaineering gloves were an acceptable alternative* as they were the only waterproof gloves that were the closest to fitting. 

*surely it’s her own fault for driving off with his gloves

After building snowmen/icemen/slushmen we had some more time by the stove.  We unboxed more Christmas presents. Jigsaws, puzzles and art. We drew, stuck and puzzled. Then the dark cloud in my mind that was the pick up of the click-and-collect grocery shopping, hovered in my thoughts. I was determined, decisive, motivational!  EVERYONE IN THE CAR, LET’S GO!

A blizzard stormed around us. The car coasted over a layer of snow and ice. There was some traction down there, under the layer of white that was continually getting thicker. We drove on through the snow that looked like light-speed in the millennium falcon. Then we dialled the lovely Sharon on speaker phone.  She was leaving work and would pick up the groceries on her way home. We turned the car around. We actually skidded the car around as snow was lying thick where I turned. Then the blizzard broke to blue skies and I began to feel a little guilty for not carrying on.

There was still enough light when we returned home. Still enough play time in the snow.  Still enough heat in the stove to warm us.

Eventually the lovely Sharon returned home with bags of food and the weekly delights of the ‘big shop’. Then we returned to the routine. Although, it was still broken by looking out into the dark to see more brief snow/hail/slush storms outside.