On snow

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It started snowing while we were sat on the sofa eating toast. Tentative white dust at first, then bigger and bigger flakes swirling and whirling.
“We must go outside!” I exclaimed. T looked at me affably, not sharing my enthusiasm but happy to go along with the plan. I gathered coats hats shoes scarves gloves and by the time we were wrapped in 1,000 layers I pronounced us fit to go out.
I opened the door and the snow came at us sideways. This was no Christmas card scene, flakes falling gently from the sky. I walked ten paces to the canal by which point we were both blinking the snow from our eyes and catching our breath in the wind.
I returned to the house for an umbrella, which helped somewhat, and we set off once more.

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We completed a circuit of the small town. Feet crunching on fresh untrodden snow, more falling all the time. I stopped by the church to take a picture. T’s tiny face looked up at me with confusion, flakes on his hat and coat. I tried to explain “well, it’s winter, and this white stuff is snow…”
T looked cold and my hand holding the umbrella was tired. We tramped back the short distance to home. I discovered the reason for the heavier and heavier umbrella as soon as I closed it inside: a pile of snow hissed on the fabric as it fell swiftly to the floor.

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