It's snowing again here in Birmingham. It's been snowing on and off since Thursday, and even if it meant that the car journey back from chemo on Friday took 3 hours (normally 20 mins), I can't be grumpy about it. Normal life gets more complicated, the pavements are icy, getting the car our of the driveway requires shovelling and pushing, but everything is so beautiful, covered in white.
The garden has become a place of magic, and the dogs love it, they run, and jump and eat the snow, follow the scent left by the cat, rediscover the puppy-within.
And I'm happy too, oddly at peace, the worry of the past weeks seems to have receded. I've been to work, and come home early because of the snow. I have time on my hands, and have spent happy hours peeling oranges, making marmalade. The jars now sit on the windowsill, not the right place for them, I know, but I can't resist the contrast of their tawny brilliance against the white of the snow.
Last night I realised that we'd run out of bread, so this morning I made spelt bread, easy and hugely satisfying. Lunch was warm bread, butter and marmalade, watching the snow fall. How could I ever want to stop living?