I love snow. Adore it. I love to be the first person out in the snow in the early hours. I create my patterns in it for people to find when they get up for work. Lattice footprints, giant steps next to little dog pawprints. No angels, too many dogs in our neighbourhood.
So this Siberian snow we have just got is my dream come true. When I was a girl in East Yorkshire, we had huge snowdrifts that stopped us getting out of our houses. A day off school? Even better!
However here where I live, in the shadow of the Peak District, we get very little settled snow. It has been very disappointing year in and year out (13) to see everyone else get deep snow and we get a slithering frost that vanishes by the afternoon.
Yesterday it settled and this afternoon we had almost a blizzard. I was out driving at the time and made sure to watch my phone for my BF needing a lift out of the gym. Sure enough he needed one. As I pulled up to where he was walking down to meet me, I had to laugh. Bundled up like a huge grizzly, I hardly recognised him.
However, my joy, (and that of my dogs who LOVE this weather also), is shadowed by my memories of being homeless. I was very lucky. I was just homeless in the wettest year we had had for ages. There was no snow until I had found a place to live. My joy therefore is tempered by the thoughts of those still out on the streets right now, and the hope that they find all of them and manage to get them into some shelter.
I was lucky. I can now look back and enjoy the weather from the safety of my house. I lived the worse and now find comfort in the fact I only have to view from a window, or go and play with the dogs if I want to, wrapped and warm, to come home and to curl up in the armchair, snug under a blankie with a hot chocolate. Others have not reached my state and live still in the heart of the storm.
So I am asking you today, if you have a spare £1, to donate it to a charity near you who feed, house or otherwise take care of a homeless person. Locally.