A winter with no snow is not a proper winter.

Snow is the definitive separator that cuts the long cold season (“not summer”) into distinct parts. Without snow, autumn just gets colder and and darker until it starts getting noticeably warmer again, and then it is called spring. All rather unsatisfyingly vague. But add some snow, and winter emerges as a proper season, worthy of having a name of its own.

Snow makes the world lighter and cleaner. It brings sharp contrasts, covering up autumn’s indistinct dust and mud, and the black skies of winter evenings are set off against a sharp white ground.

There’s rarely any snow in London… we had one snowy day last year. This year I hear rumours that some snow was sighted between Christmas and New Year, while we were away in a warmer place.

But I got at least one weekend’s worth of snow in the Ardennes (with Kid 2 weeks ago). We wandered around in a beautiful coniferous forest for hours. The snow was wet but fresh, and many paths were untouched by human feet (though there were tracks of hare and squirrel and deer) to the point where it was sometimes difficult to see where the paths were. The thick mists were very pretty but didn’t make pathfinding any easier!