Beast From the East

It rolled in yesterday, filling up the lane and causing problems as far as we could see. Down on the main road we watched as cars became silent, a queue that stretched until past lunch time as flurries of snow blanketed them. Cars from side roads scrambled and spun up hill and cars slid down hill like a toboggan team going for gold. The garden hid its weeds and the wind battered through.

Snow filled garden

The beast from the east had arrived, a none starter in some parts of England and battering the rest of us with cold Siberian winds that froze water in the chicken run after only an hour.

Snow rolls in on the Saddleworth Hills

On our second day with our lane full and the snow drifting against the walls, we came out of our warm home as D wanted to do what all small children want to do in snow. He reached to make a snowball and was annoyed that this type of easterly snow doesn't make great snow balls, the snow crumbles in your hands as it is blown around by the fierce, biting wind.

Man in beard on snow

Andrew decides to channel Grizzly Adams  as we drag D's sledge down the road to the field only to find the snow is sheltering from the wind too against the lee side of the dry stone walls.

Snow drifts

But it doesn't stop D from scooting down the hillside watching Carol crash when its her turn, the sledge turning over her backside and whacking her in the back of the head. She's fine, just a little red from us all laughing in the cold. We can't even reach thirty minutes in the cold, our mobile phones turn off, the batteries too cold for the phones to carry on. After twenty minutes, toes curling in our boots, cheeks too red we call it a day.

Sledging in winter

Trudge back across snow with ice beneath, slide home on sledge and foot.

Country lane full of snow

Saddleworth moor in winter

The snow comes back during the day, lasting longer as night falls, filling our windows as the moon rises.

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