London days of Gluggavedur…of how our Nordic neighbours call it – window weather; they couldn’t be more accurate, these days the best of scenery is to be grasped indoors, by the window, with piping hot home baked scones and an Earl Grey by their side. And clotted cream. And my mum’s apricot and lavender jam.
Just like many of my Icelandic friends, I’m fully embracing Gluggaveður while appreciating the frostbiting polar wave from the coziness of my overcrowded bed (despite the fact it only lasts for minutes during morning baby feeds, while everyone else is still deep asleep).
The house is peaceful at 5.47am. There’s hardly any wind to make the snow uneven in my garden; except for a very confused squirrel which has been trying to climb a fence for the past 12 minutes as she clearly doesn’t seem to know much about London’s new shiny and frosty coat, there’s not much life around. I haven’t seen the fox in days (although we’re only living 20 minutes away from Oxford Circus, the wild animals number is not shy). It’s only fair, we haven’t seen much snow during the past few years, but when we do, we make the most of it. We either hide like my coward fox visitor, or get in the very core of it like my brave squirrel garden lodger.
Therefore, here I am, ditching gluggavedur for an hour, ditching emails, shootings at the coffee shops, forgetting the kids are still to get over the noxious ‘perks’ of a week old cold (you, evil endless nursery bugs), we’re going to fully breath this winter in on the first official day of spring. While reading Mr Frost. While drinking all the cupboard tea. While Lucas is spelling ‘woods’ out loud…
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
Robert Frost
If you listen carefully, the silence is beautiful…
Photo credit: my 4 year old apprentice and sometimes I.
