Dashing through the snow

I've been in the country for over three and a half years and I'd never seen a snowstorm.

Until last weekend.

On Saturday night the view outside my window was a flurry of snowflakes. We didn't take much notice of it at first because snowfall in Glasgow is usually gone by the next day.

However on the morning after we woke up to the view of Great Western Road - or rather, Great Western Road was covered by a very thick blanket of purest, untouched white snow.

By 10:30 AM, Husband and I were out in the back, in the courtyard. The kids in the neighbouring block were working on a snowman.

The organic fruit shop employees had erected a snowman in front of their shop. Armed with cameras and heavy boots (well, husband wore heavy boots and kilt, I had my cracked and dilapidated sole-worn-thin boots and thick thermal socks on underneath).

We headed for the Kelvin river to catch the views. It was amazing. So beautiful. And very much like home - when the first real snowfall hits Montreal - and the snow is still pure and white and soft. Kelvingrove Park was stunning. Even more incongruous was the green-leaved trees laden with snow.

Most surprising was the number of people already out. You have to realise: the West End is a sleepy place. No one is out before 11 AM - most businesses aren't open until then. But when we crossed Kelvin Way we could hear the screams of joy (and fear) of people frolicking on the hills. There were skiers and snowboards, people with toboggans, people with what I call Krazy Karpets (those plastic carpets we used to go sliding down Mount-Royal), people with toboggans, and people who improvised a sleigh or toboggan out of bits of boxes, bin bags or anything else that could slide over snow. I saw full-grown neds wearing bin bags around their neck sliding headfirst, on their bellies, like Artic seals, down the slopes (narrowly missing the bin). The owner of the Tchai Ovna teahouse, on Otago Lane, a native Czech, was there, clad in snowpants, surrounded by his bevy of teahouse waitresses all sliding down the hill on their tea trays and wrestling in the snow. People were throwing snowballs. There were snowmen EVERYWHERE and curiously they were crowned, clad or covered in green leaves.

Husband got a LOT of comments about his hardiness - he said he felt a little cool but the boots and socks and heavy jacket kept the rest of his body rather warm so he was OK.

We had a blast in the park and then we headed to Stravaigin for breakfast. As I felt very Quebecoise that morning, I insisted on bringing my own syrup, straight from the cabane a sucres in northern Quebec. I refuse to touch the stuff they call maple syrup in this country. We had a nice brunch, where I explained to a confused and amused waiter that syrup isn't just syrup, that there are grades of syrup, etc. and that I only use Quebec light maple syrup for my pancakes! None of that mixed blend crap from Ontario, s'il vous plait.

Afterwards I remembered why I hated winter. Snow melts. And it melts into slippery compact snow, ice and slush. It took us a half hour to get from Sauchiehall through Kelvin Way and back to the Road - where it would normally take us 10 minutes. The path was treacherous, my feet were soaked and I think I need new boots - that last trek just totally finished them. At least, I won't be able to wear them in wet weather.