This morning we left the house during what seemed like one of those North Sea squalls all too familiar to me from summer holidays on the east coast of England in the 60s. Black skies, metallic-grey lake (or sea, take your pick) driving winds, sneak-under-your-collar rain.
Nothing daunted, we splashed down the hill to the tune of Colonel Hathi's March, and arrived below rather dribbly. We gunned the Panda and found ourselves up to the rims in flood water, battered by falling branches and spearheading a slowly-moving column of German caravanners harrumphing their way north.
On the return journey, the low cloud parted momentarily and there, beyond the confines of Lombardy across the lake, I spotted - No! - Yes. No! It can't be!
SNOW on the Swiss mountaintops.
My feet instantly froze in my walking boots, and B's hand turned red and chilled in mine. And it wasn't all psychosomatic, either.
As M's compatriot at Verbania station and the weight of berries on the cotonester have been telling us, it may be that we're in for a loooong, cooooold winter.
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Tuesday, 23 September 2008
Tentative winter prediction
This morning we left the house during what seemed like one of those North Sea squalls all too familiar to me from summer holidays on the east coast of England in the 60s. Black skies, metallic-grey lake (or sea, take your pick) driving winds, sneak-under-your-collar rain.
Nothing daunted, we splashed down the hill to the tune of Colonel Hathi's March, and arrived below rather dribbly. We gunned the Panda and found ourselves up to the rims in flood water, battered by falling branches and spearheading a slowly-moving column of German caravanners harrumphing their way north.
On the return journey, the low cloud parted momentarily and there, beyond the confines of Lombardy across the lake, I spotted - No! - Yes. No! It can't be!
SNOW on the Swiss mountaintops.
My feet instantly froze in my walking boots, and B's hand turned red and chilled in mine. And it wasn't all psychosomatic, either.
As M's compatriot at Verbania station and the weight of berries on the cotonester have been telling us, it may be that we're in for a loooong, cooooold winter.
Nothing daunted, we splashed down the hill to the tune of Colonel Hathi's March, and arrived below rather dribbly. We gunned the Panda and found ourselves up to the rims in flood water, battered by falling branches and spearheading a slowly-moving column of German caravanners harrumphing their way north.
On the return journey, the low cloud parted momentarily and there, beyond the confines of Lombardy across the lake, I spotted - No! - Yes. No! It can't be!
SNOW on the Swiss mountaintops.
My feet instantly froze in my walking boots, and B's hand turned red and chilled in mine. And it wasn't all psychosomatic, either.
As M's compatriot at Verbania station and the weight of berries on the cotonester have been telling us, it may be that we're in for a loooong, cooooold winter.
3 comments:
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Anonymous said...
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Hi Louise,
A great piece of descriptive writing. When are we going to see a book ? Look forward to the changing seasons, even the winter has something to offer. -
Wednesday, 24 September, 2008
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Anonymous said...
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Yes, definitely, a book.
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Wednesday, 24 September, 2008
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Anonymous said...
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I'd vote for a book too Louise. You're writing is so absorbing, and the place is so unique. I am sure there are lots of people who want to visit you in their armchairs!
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Thursday, 25 September, 2008
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3 comments:
Hi Louise,
A great piece of descriptive writing. When are we going to see a book ? Look forward to the changing seasons, even the winter has something to offer.
Yes, definitely, a book.
I'd vote for a book too Louise. You're writing is so absorbing, and the place is so unique. I am sure there are lots of people who want to visit you in their armchairs!
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