I have a clear recollection of the first time I ever saw snow. I was 30, and it was only the dirty half melted patches which you see on the side of the road on the way up a mountain, in this case Mount Buffalo. It created a real sense of excitement in me, and since that moment, I’ve always loved snow.
Not that I’m particularly fond of all the bits and pieces that go hand in hand with it. I’m not much of a skier, and I confess I have no great enthusiasm for the sport. I don’t enjoy fitting chains and driving on them over treacherous icy roads. And a wind chill factor of -10° does nothing to improve my mood. But snow and ice are such beautiful elements that it’s impossible not to love them for themselves.
