Tag Archives: snow
It hangs like snow which cannot fall. In drifts, it floats around the houses, obscures the hills behind. The sun attempts to shine, but its smoky tendrils hold her fast.
At first, they look like flies, chasing each other around in the early morning sun. Then I realise they’re falling, not flying. Tiny snowflakes, lost in a place where they cannot settle, melting away as fast as they appear.
A new, bright white against the grey dregs of winter. They stand by their mothers, whose coats seem dirty, yellowing beside the freshness of their offspring. They remind me that Spring is on its way. Battling against the wind and … Continue reading
Soft, powdery, early spring snow. It covers an empty field. Suddenly, the wind gets up, picking it up in swirling snow dervishes. So fleeting, I feel privileged to have glimpsed them.
On the coffee shop terrace sits a lonely snowman, hanging on to life amidst the drifting grit that threatens to engulf him. Blind and mute, all he can do is sniff the freezing air through his long carrot nose.
His white back and head echo the snow on the roof beneath his feet. His belly stands out starkly, a lozenge of dark grey against the creamy-coloured, snow-laden sky.
The woman carries a bright red plastic sledge, the ridges on its base white with snow. From behind her skips a little girl, dressed head to toe in pink. She stops dead and turns towards her mother, then falls straight … Continue reading
A small stone Buddha sits cross-legged on a green plastic bench. A fur coat of snow covers him and a cossack-style snow-hat finishes off the outfit with a flourish. Through it all, undeterred, he calmly searches for Nirvana.