A Surprise White Chirstmas at Kilmurry House
Last night (early this morning actually) I told my husband that is was snowing in Houston. He went over the the window and said, "Why not here, SNOW MAKE IT SNOW!"
I guess someone heard him? I woke up this morning to a land covered in white and green. It had snowed early in the morning hours and left a dusting everywhere. Husband had already put the dogs back outside where they could play (they are arctic dogs, snow is fun, freezing rain inside their coats is not). I heard the barn cats mewing at the back door, from the upstairs window. They wanted to know why they had to make do with the hayloft, wool blankets and outbuildings; if the dogs got to come in why couldn't they. Husband took them a bunch of food out as a peace offering. Once in a while, they get their wish, but that's when we get either really cold snaps (this isn't one) or dangerously high winds or both.
This afternoon, the snow started again. It began slowly, but got heavier as the afternoon went on. Now its dancing around like white fire flies and settling a white powder over everything. Indoor cats are sitting at the windows hunting snow flakes and dogs can be heard outside barking and chasing them with great excitement. Can't let a snow flake get away!
We've filled the water bottles, checked the wood and turf, made sure we have matches and made plans to bring the dogs in before dark (in case it turns to freezing rain again). Husband has taken extra hay for the horses and straw for the chickens. Now its time to just hunker down, light the fire in the drawing room and heat up some mulled spiced wine. One nice thing about it being a holiday here (and tomorrow too, its Boxing Day) is that we don't have to do anywhere, so the snow is not a problem. Like a lot of places where snow only falls once in a while, our local road system isn't really up to the task of dealing with major white stuff. This time it is combined with some pretty strong winds, which combined with the snow fall are likely to bring down trees and other heavy objects. At least things are better than when we first moved here. Then, we had too major winds storms, two years in a row. The sort that take off roofs, down trees and are referred to as "hurricane force." The first year, because it was Christmas day, all the staff at the local radio stations had gone home, leaving a weather recording. So people (like us) calling for information got a cheerful message saying:
"Chance of high winds and rain tomorrow, have a A Happy Christmas!"
There was so much outcry of this lack of professional behavior that the next year (when the storm hit on Boxing Day, this is the one where we were without power for four days) there were human beings on the air. They were able to report news like the chicken shed that was said to be "walking along a major road" (I'm not making this up). And the collapse of a major church steeple in Limerick. I'm not sure if it was comforting or not to know when the winds hit 100 MPH (and I do mean miles per hour, not kilometers) but it did let me get my husband so we could sit in one room with the shudders shut tight.
Today, even the television was giving updated weather reports and road advisories. Realizing, I guess, that life does not completely stop, even for a major holiday. Or, even if most regular life does, Mother Nature doesn't care. The UK TV news channel, SKY, is doing really interesting human interest stories on people who have to work on Christmas Day. Which I thought was a nice touch. The first one I watched was a man who job is to climb Welsh mountains and take weather readings needed for hikers and mountain rescue teams. I thought that was a creative idea and showed that it wasn't just doctors, police and ambulance crews that don't get a break. Though I suspect if I watched the news all day, instead of watching snow flakes, I would see those professions covered too.
As I'm writing, its getting dark, and the world outside is getting that weird, other-worldly look that only snow, sunset and a near full-moon can bring. In the Norse Tradition, the Yule Season (which lasts almost two weeks) is a time when the beloved dead come back to visit the living. Its easy to imagine ghosts when I look outside. Moving among the shadows, their clothing made of snow flakes, their hair streaming past tree branches and their voices whispered in the moaning winds.
If they visit, I hope they like mulled wine....
Disaster Cat
Happy Holidays, hope you enjoy the snow if you've got it!