Last time I ended up here, escaping life, I wrote about a wonderful thing called snow. And since I really love snow (you could say I’m obsessed) I feel that I’m not quite done with it.
My obsession goes back a while, I think. Or at least for as long as I can remember (however long that may be). To me snow is a white, fluffy mass in which joy could be expressed. Wether it is sledding down a hillside or making snow beings (since one can do so much more than the stereotypical snowman).
Snow is the reason why winter is my favourite time of the year. It’s the best season; that is when there’s snow to find. And here’s my problem: there is no snow at the moment. It’s a huge excitement killer which has the indecency to slay what little Christmas hype I’d managed to collect (I’m not the most excited person when it comes to Christmas). It’s like the Weather Gods, or whoever’s responsible for the change between rain and snow didn’t get the message. It’s like they don’t even know it’s Christmas time. I guess I’ll have to start writing a letter of complaint, because asking Santa is out of the question. I want snow now and not the twenty-fourth of December!