Snow. Again. For ever.

This afternoon when I was having my afternoon coffee with my colleagues at work I was… well taking my time. Hoping. Longing. Dreaming. But no. That snow just wouldn’t stop pouring massively down. It looked very pretty from my warm and dry position, coffee cup in hand, but then I knew that the only way home was by bike. So finally I took a decision and put on my coat.
When reaching the great outdoors it had just gotten worse. But nothing should get me down. I tuned my iPod in on Carl Nielsen’s summer songs and went out. The snowflakes were bean size as I mounted my bike. And then I went. The first two meters were alright until I realised I could see absolutely nothing. So I slowed down. Not that it helped. It was like the new paralympic disciplin: biking for the blind. I was definitely ready for the Torino games – I mean it did include snow! And while fighting for the gold I slowly but surely sank down to a different mental level. The level where Anna thinks “this is not happening. No, I am just looking at snow, I am not part of that. Looks funny though with all the white people. Strange, now that it’s actually summer. I know that what Inger Dam Jensen is singing right now is the truth. “The branch of the apple tree blushes with flowers. Oh, summer is here”. True, true, keep singing for goodness’ sake!”
When I reached home I was covered, and I mean COVERED with sticky, wet snow. But only on my front. The back was just wet.
Anyone in for emigration?

/anna

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March 3, 2006. The course of the year.

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