This past few days  my friends from back home kept sharing pictures of the first snow that has fallen this year. That’s one of the things that can make me feel homesick. Not just about home, but about my childhood as well. I can recall perfectly the excitement. When the temperatures start getting low and every morning, when you wake up you take a quick peek to see if it had snowed. And how, when the snow does fall down for the first time, it just fills you up with excitement, and happiness and that warm fuzzy feeling, even though your window is covered with frost. Snow just makes everything magical. I can’t see other reason why you’re so eager to leave the warmth of your house and just get out in the freezing cold, to catch a snowflake on your palm and marvel at it uniqueness. Snow can make any grey city look charming, any landscape whimsical. I miss the sound snow makes under my boots, I miss having spontaneous snowfights, the smell of cold in the air, and the feeling of warmth and coziness you get while looking out the window on the winter wonderland.

That’s it, I’m feeling nostalgic today. I don’t know how much snow we’re going to actually get this year here in England, but here’s hoping. Fingers crossed! ♥

(the picture doesn’t belong to me, I’ve borrowed it from Radio Simplu’s Facebook page, and it belongs to its rightful owner)



                  The Magic Of Snow – Poem by Laura Greene

Snowflakes dance like white fairies of old
Each one a treasure to behold
Far more precious than spectrums of stone
For stones, anytime, the rich can easily own
The white season only enchants us a few months a year
The fairies, by magic, soon disappear
God, not man, decides whom these riches bestow
The rich of spirit know the value of silvery sheets of snow
Children charmed by snow’s shimmering spell
Gaze at a snowman sculptured by winter’s richest girl
Whose love moulded beauty into perfection
And whose childish joy shines from every section
Like a perishing goddess, winter’s wind begins to sing
The purity of winter must mature to spring
From the snowman, molten light trickles into a stream
Before the children’s eyes, vanishing into a dream
Why are their eyes shining with regret and pain?
Winter will return to cast its spell again
When their white season ends, they should then lament
For that treasure’s lost forever, once it is spent