You can see the Dublin mountains from our front garden. Every morning for the past couple of weeks, I have asked the (keener sighted than me) children, “Is there snow in the mountains?” Often there is and I would so love to get up there and look at the snow but the rest of the family are less keen.
When I was growing up, my mother would often say, “I love natural phenomena.” I can remember, as a small child standing by the window in the dark after the electricity had been cut in a storm. We had lit candles and I was watching the lightening with my parents and my mother was delighted. It’s funny how you turn into your parents, isn’t it?
Last weekend I was in Cork and when I came back, herself said to me, rather heartlessly, “You should have seen the mountains, it was like the Alps up there.”
In related news, the children and I walked in to school in the snow last week. It was horrible, cold, sleety snow that didn’t stick but they twirled around in it, crowing in delight.
And it was definitely very cold:
