I awoke this morning to a silent and empty house (mildly disturbing in itself), only to find, upon gazing out the window, that the forecast snow had arrived, a possibility which I had come to disbelieve given the relatively mild temperature when I was on my way home several hours before. Now, at the time I was rather pleased; a quiet suburban road swathed in snow is a rather beautiful sight. Now, however, having spent a good portion of the day making my way through this snow, I'm rather less pleased about it.
The reasons for this are myriad. First, there is the fact that when going into college (as I was today), I have to spend at least a couple of hours in transit, sitting on or waiting for buses. Today, thanks to the snow (which caused lesser roads to be slippery and necessitated diversions on some routes) and a large march in the city centre (another topic on which I had a good grumble to myself), that time was drastically increased. In fairness, buses are generally less frequent on a Saturday anyway, and I was relying on a notoriously unreliable route. Still, much annoyance was had.
Even more annoying than the buses were the brats throwing snowballs at them. I was very much hoping that there would be some just before my stop, so I could walk towards them looking threatening in my long black coat. Sadly, the only snowballing brats I came across were in the middle of my route (of course, a scarcity of them is nothing to complain about, in the same way that I was oddly muted about the lack of fireworks – which I despise – this Hallowe'en). I did come across one other snowball fight on my walk from the bus stop to my house, but this one was between two groups of children and actually looked more innocent than aggressive. In fact, it looked so fun that it brought a smile to my face.
I rather thought that if snow arrived, it would make me feel Christmassy. In fact, it just made me feel very cold indeed. I associate snow more with January or February than Christmas (though I've known a couple of white Christmases). Standing at bus stops for an extended period of time did help much with the cold. Then again, it's been very cold for quite some time now, so I can hardly blame that on the snow.
That said, of course, my mood can be easily improved. For one thing, I've written my letter to Santa. Some people were rather surprised at the persistence of this tradition within my family, but it makes perfect sense. This way, we know what to get each other, which is especially valuable given that my siblings and I now live under three separate roofs. I also enjoy myself every year writing an unnecessarily pompous letter. This year, for instance, I said "I am aware that, in your omniscience, you are probably already cognisant of this fact, yet I feel it incumbent upon me to make reference to the fact, lest your godlike perception should be failing" rather than "You probably already know this, but I thought I'd tell you anyway".
Despite all this Scrooging, I should point out that I don't actually hate snow (Dino will back me up). At the very beginning of this year, I walked home from a friend's house through quite a deep snowfall at about three in the morning. The journey was about twenty minutes, and I hardly saw a soul in all that time. It's a simple thing, but it was one of the most peaceful and lovely experiences of my life, and a large part of that was down to the strange silence which the snow somehow emphasised ("Never knew such silence. The earth might be uninhabited."). Even if this cold persists, I can always find ways to improve my mood.
And if all else fails...
[28 days until Christmas!]
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