Just back for a run in the heavy snow that has been predicted. It was just starting as a left, big wet flakes swirling down through the cones of visibility under the streetlights. By the time I’d gone the half kilometre to the park I was wishing I’d worn my hat and gloves, and I could feel the snow settling against the front of my hi-viz jacket. But it was beautiful, especially in the park and when I got to the back roads, with streetlamps further apart and less ambient light, the flakes drifting and fluttering down, their shadows chaotic against the settling whiteness.
By the time I was on Beeley Woods Road the ground was almost completely covered but for some black voids beneath overhanging branches. Looking back I could see my tracks, alone as Crusoe’s on the beach. By now the exertion and pumping blood had made my extremities warm again, and I felt like I was in a silent cocoon formed by the falling snow.
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