Daughter of Claus: Day XX

Let it snow! Let it snow! Let it snow!

On the jukebox: Sleigh Ride by The Ronettes

Living where we do in the Northern Hemisphere, Christmas and snow go together like, well, like something that goes together really well but doesn’t actually happen all that much.

As the year rolls around, media outlets in the United Kingdom search for the merest hint of a possibility of a shadow of a prospect that there might be a White Christmas (note the capitals). This is the Holy Grail of Christmas media reporting: the opportunity to share photographs from around the country of people sledging and walking dogs in a snowy landscape. Beautiful landmarks are made that bit more stunning by a soft layer of chilly down, and snowmen inject an element of fun - full-hearted or cheeky - into daily proceedings.

I am unashamedly pro-snow, something I cheerfully admit on work calls every year as people start to grumble about the weather. Of course, I suspect the fact that I don’t drive (yet) might have something to do with it, but snow to me always has been and always will be magical.

For the last few weeks, Auri has already been asking if it is going to snow. Or rather, when it is going to snow - with that utter confidence that children have that, because Christmas is round the corner, there also will be snow. Jingle Bells, Walking in a Winter Wonderland, Let It Snow! Of course, it is going to snow at Christmas - all the songs say so!

I remember it snowing so much in Orkney one year we couldn’t tell where the end of the garden dropped off into the ditch, as the drifts were so high you could accidentally lose a toddler. My younger sister, Diff, was said toddler at the time and, for a long time afterwards, if you asked her what she did in the snow, she would cheerfully answer, “Jumped!”

In the absence, or anticipation, of snow, we have a snowman in our house. Mum used to wrap cottonwool round a large glass jar, and fashion a head with features, hat, and scarf, and fill it with chocolates. I think the same head has been carefully saved and reused for many years now. Last year, (Auntie) Diff made us a snowman for our own house, which we carefully saved (though no-one knows quite where its smile went - that could have been Auri, or it could have been Ailsa) and brought out again this year. Even without a smile, it sits there quite merrily, bringing us much joy - and sharing much needed bursts of sugar every now and then - throughout the festive season.

I would love to hear about your own Christmas folklore and memories. What are your memories of snow at Christmastime?