Winter Reflections by Margaret Greenwood

Memories of childhood winters past

It began badly. It wasn’t a surprise that it did, because it began badly every year. After all, who enjoys returning to school after a break of six weeks? Nobody! At least, nobody of school age did. So you see, that’s the main reason why the Autumn and Winter season began badly. It didn’t continue badly though! Once we had all settled back into the school routine things seemed to become easier. We even looked forward to the fun which the two seasons, previously viewed as bleak and dull, had to offer.

To be honest I think I just allowed Autumn to slide by me! I recall once reading a poem that described Autumn as the "season of mists and mellow fruitfulness." Well, I was mellow too. It wasn’t until the leaves had been shed from the trees and the days had shortened to alarming proportions that I seemed to awaken to the fact that Autumn had almost slipped by me yet again. That was okay. My favourite season was winter anyway. There is a beauty to be found in the starkness of the naked branches of trees silhouetted against a watery sun that slid down the sky earlier and earlier each day.

On winter mornings the air was sharp and cold and felt like a thousand tiny needles pricking the surface of any exposed skin. Some days it could almost hurt to breathe in! At school, most pupils’ thoughts turned to Christmas but that is just one day in the whole season, why overlook all the other days?

As late December approached I loved to leave school at the end of the day just as the daylight faded, and almost chase it away as I hurried back to the warmth of home, where the curtains would be drawn against the cold and damp, and the delicious, comforting scent of dinner tickled nostrils and made mouths water. It would usually be a stew cooked over a low heat for many hours so that the smell permeated every room in the house, and your senses begged to be satisfied. That was the reason we ate earlier in the winter time I’m sure! And, of course, it was the same reason that we also had time for a light supper of toasted muffins and warm milk before bed in winter, too.

There was such a delightful mix of weather in winter,too. Summer is glorious in it’s own way, but it never seemed to have the variety of weather that winter could produce. We could have cold, stinging, wind-driven rain one day, and then ice-blue skies and warming sun the next. You could wake to a covering of sparkling, crisp frost one day, and then be unable to see across the garden for thick fog the following day! But the weather that we really wanted to see – the children, that is! – was snow. Oh, how we longed to wake up one morning and find a deep blanket of wonderful winter snow had been deposited overnight. And, if it should be so fortuitous as to fall at Christmas, then all the better! Of course, it rarely did. In fact, when snow did fall it tended to be on a school day, and there was simply no time to play in it before school, and by the time we finished lessons in the afternoon most of the snow would be gone.Somehow we seemed to only get wet, slushy snow that melted rapidly, and rarely the glorious crisp, dry stuff we had dreamed of.

When snow did come at a convenient time we would race outdoors grabbing ill-fitting wellington boots (probably last year’s, and too small now) and whichever gloves and hats were close to hand. Snowball fights ensued, until gloved hands were red-raw and gloves dripped with melting snow. Then, we simply trudged indoors, dropped the gloves on the nearest surface, and hurried back outside with any spare pair we had been lucky enough to find (probably Dad’s!).

Snowballing over, we would attempt to build a snowman using stones for eyes and a mouth, twigs or sticks for arms, and, if we could persuade Mum to spare one, a carrot or parsnip for a nose. Invariably, one of us would kindly donate our scarf in order to complete the effect.

As the light faded or our enthusiasm was overcome by the effects of the cold and wet, we would trail indoors with numb fingers and toes, and rosy-red cheeks and ears (despite the wearing of hats!). Mum would provide us with cups of steaming hot chocolate or milk flavoured with cinnamon and nutmeg, and then reprimand us for dripping water all over her floor! Hats, coats, scarves and gloves were dried by the fire, and all afternoon the house smelled of damp, warm woollens as they steamed dry.

By the following morning the snow would be rapidly melting, the snowman mis-shapen and sad-looking, and our snowball battlefield deserted. All that remained to indicate that we had had any significant snow was a row of now clean wellington boots standing by the kitchen door.

The Christmas and New Year holidays passed in a blur of over-excitement, over-indulgence and excessive bon-homie! January, by comparison with other months, seemed a long drawn out one. Not even the unpredictable weather could offer much interest. Gardens, parks and trees just began to look barren and bare.

The lack of sunlight became wearisome.

Winter lost a little of its previous appeal.

At least that was until the sturdy, hardy little snowdrops pushed their green shoots through the black soil, and eventually displayed the pure white flowers from which their delightful name originates.My Mother always said that the snowdrop represented hope: hope that spring would return and there would be a renewal of life from the cold, barren earth. I just thought snowdrops were very brave for something that looked so fragile with their beautiful white flowers contrasting with the black earth. To me, they were gutsy little things, and every garden should reserve a little space with which to honour them by planting them there!

Slowly and surely the days began to lengthen, and the gardens began to stir into life. The patch of lawn that had supported our mis-shapen old snowman and become flattened and brown seemed to spring up, blades of grass suddenly greener, stronger, and surging upward to the strengthening rays of the sun. The row of wellington boots were moved to the garden shed, but near the door where we could reach them easily, ‘just in case!’ and I prepared myself to whisper a wistful goodbye to winter, and turned my face to the warming rays of the springtime sun.

Learn more about snowdrops