Snow and Slow; Lakes and Lace

When It Snows
There Are Two Options.....

Shovel
Or
Make Snow Angels!

January can be such a dismal month. The skies are grey; night and day seem to merge into one, causing a feeling of despondency plus permanent tiredness and fatigue. I am convinced that with the low light levels I am suffering from S.A.D. So when snow was forecast I eagerly anticipated bright skies and wintery sun lighting up a white frozen landscape.

The snow arrived, but not as expected. One minute it was raining; half a mile later there was sleet; then darkness and falling flakes of snow. My journey of 10 miles which traffic dictating can take about twenty-five minutes on a good day or up to an hour and twenty-five minutes on a bad day was a horrendous gruelling nightmare scenario which lasted over.......

FOUR AND A HALF HOURS!!!

On the motorway I crawled grimly along; traffic bumper to bumper; cars in first gear, slipping and sliding; stationary, crashed or broken down - the Mini occasionally objecting ominously. Upon reaching journey's end, my head thumping and nerves jangling I decided snow angels were preferable to shovelling or indeed slithering about on treacherous roads with the rest of the traffic.

Thus next morning, bags packed -

we headed off - away from the chaos of abandoned cars and traffic inching slowly along; off to the country where I excitedly looked forward to walks in crisp white virgin snow amongst frosted trees, alongside frozen lakes and making snow angels before returning to the cottage to warm chilled fingers and toes beside a roaring log fire.

Happily for the one driving but sadly for the snow angels, I was doomed to be disappointed. We arrived at what must have been the only place in the British isles where not one single snow-flake had fluttered. The sky was grey; the air damp and the ground waterlogged - around us all looked bleak.

However, before I descended into gloom - a wrong turning and just like Brigadoon a building with white walls and thatched roof materialised out of nowhere at the side of the little country road. Too inviting to ignore, we paused at this unexpected mirage.

The sign outside proclaimed Antique Lace Shop

Gazing curiously through the windows, I could make out an Aladdin's Cave of Antique Lace draped intriguingly; tempting and captivating; luring the unsuspecting passerby into a decadent fairy-tale world.  

The little bell above the door tinkled daintily as we stepped across the threshold and were whisked back in time to a fantasy bygone opulent era. 

Everywhere there was Vintage Handcrafted Irish Lace in white, ivory, cream and even black

frothing over lamps and chandeliers

swagged from the ceiling and walls; swathed around mirrors;

draped over tables and dressers

interspersed with heavily hand embroidered gowns and shawls; roses; ostrich feathers; pearls and jewels.

Antique Table-cloths and Lace panels

Lace Gowns

Bonnets, bodices, collars and veils.

Black and white photos of 1920s screen stars adorned a mirror

in front of which were displayed an exquisite lace cap and veil.

In cabinets and

over dresser doors - spilled clouds of lace.

In a glass fronted cabinet a fan of mother-of-pearl and delicate Bobbin Lace.

 (The price-tag for this charming accessory was over £500!)

Upon leaving the shop, and returning back into the world of reality, to my delight the grey skies had lifted and the sun filtered through the clouds. 

As we reached the Isle and our destination,  

the Castle glowed in the winter sun.

I thought of Rebecca when she arrived at Manderley for the first time 

and saw the sun ablaze on the windows - making her think the house was on fire.

The sun shone on the old clock-tower and barn. 

One of the two donkeys peered around the huge trunk of an ancient tree.

Later - strolling through the woods, amongst the gnarled old Oak and Beech trees, 

not perhaps frozen and frosted with snow, but covered with lichen;

there was no snow to make snow angels but instead

I found little bunches of snowdrops, nestled amongst the fallen leaves nodding their heads as a sign of hope; Nature is awakening - Spring is on the way!

xxx