White Blanket of Bitterness

I love days like today. Even if I can’t go outside without layering myself in various items of clothing. It takes ages to get ready on days like today, even to do the little errands. My errand today is to take my dog for a walk. That’s it. I’ve done my university coursework, I’ve done my laundry and the kitchen is sparkling. Now I need to take Jasper, even on a day like today. He’s excited to go out, even more so than normal. I am too. This isn’t an annual occurrence where I live. It’s almost a phenomenon. He’s eager to disturb the peaceful white blanket that covers the grass, the roads, the cars and the houses. Everything outside that couldn’t avoid being cloaked by the milky mass.

Everyone else is smart. They’re staying indoors. I should too, really, but Jasper’s adamant on experiencing the eye-watering, nose-reddening, hair-blowing outside for himself. I wrap myself in a scarf, thick gloves and a woolly hat that is way too big. Every movement causes it to slip down over my eyes. I put the lead round Jasper and open the door. Before I’ve even turned the handle all the way down, the door swings open violently, as if a bull has just charged it. My hair flies and my scarf threatens to unravel itself, as I make my way outside. I struggle with the door. I pull  it toward me and it pulls back, like we’re in a pantomime. I emerge victorious, as I shut the door forcefully. I’m just able to lock it, before Jasper pulls me away, out of my garden and onto the pavement. 

Every step we take makes a small crunching sound, with the white ground being replaced by black footprints. A small droplet falls from the sky every now and then, landing on my black coat or on Jasper’s brown fur. He enjoys trying to catch them in his mouth. He yaps in anger when he misses them and barks in confusion when they land on the tip of his nose. He’s enjoying himself, even if he is beginning to shiver. That won’t deter him though. He's Hell-bent on experiencing this new element for as long as he can bear. 

It’s strange, going outside today. Although it is normally quiet, living in the rural countryside and all, it’s seemingly more serene today. Everyone’s been given the day off work, I suppose. Or, those who ventured out this morning are probably stuck out on the roads, their cars halted by the translucent sand. No one’s about. There are no kids making weird creatures out of the dazzling powder, or throwing spheres of the fluffy substance at each other. No sounds, except for the crunching of our steps and the snapping of Jasper’s jaw, as he jumps frantically to catch the floating water crystals. The further we travel from the house, the deeper the translucent ocean becomes. I feel my ankles becoming wet, and Jasper is now walking like a high-stepping show horse. He hasn’t tried to turn back yet and seems content enough trudging forwards, so we continue. 

It doesn’t feel right to walk across the uninterrupted land. I feel like I’m violating it’s sacredness. I look ahead, toward the hills and fields, their grounds wonderfully unbroken. My scarf and hair begin to blow wildly, the floating droplets becoming heavy and unrelenting. It’s getting worse - or better - depending on your point of view. To me, it is getting better. I enjoy not being able to go out in the car, or unable to open the front door without an avalanche rushing into the hallway. It’s nice when you're inside with a hot cup of tea, relaxing in front of the fire with no reason to go outside. It’s not as comfortable when you’re out in it, blinded and unsure of your surroundings, your nose turning red and your cheeks being bitten. There’s a fine line between just enough and too much when it comes to this extreme occurrence. It falls so quickly, it’s hard to keep track of what’s going on. I decide that we should head back. The conditions can become dangerous in a blink of an eye. Jasper initially tries to put up a fight, but I think he’s quietly grateful when I pull him back toward the house. His fur is soaked and has turned from light brown to almost black. The white droplets have fallen perfectly onto his face, making it look like he has large eyebrows. He shakes his body, forcing the droplets to evacuate. I peer at my own coat, but all I see are patches of water. I must be too hot for the solid beads to survive.

I enjoy looking at the trees at this time of year. Their bare branches usually swing in the wind, but today they’re weighed down by the thick sheet. The stream next to my house no longer flows, but has turned into a long slippery road. The sheep in the field opposite my house are almost indistinguishable to their surroundings. They’re huddled together, determined to shut out the bitterness.

Jasper seems delighted when we finally reach the front door and bounds over in excitement. Our steps from earlier are nowhere to be seen. The ground, once again, is pristine and unmarked. There’s no sign that anyone ever stepped here. I search my pocket for the key and open the door. The letters on the sideboard fly onto the floor and the curtains wave fiercely. Round two of the wrestling match with the door begins, but ends abruptly with a loud bang. The harshness is left outside, as I walk into the living room with Jasper in tow. We sit on the sofa, listening to the howling outside and watching the dandruff fall from up above. It’s noisy and quiet all at once, as the pearly texture continues it’s peaceful conquest to take over the Earth. I sit in awe, admiring the ability for it to turn from innocently beautiful to distressingly treacherous within a matter of seconds. It’s still extremely pretty. 

I make a fire and lay my wet clothes in front of it, which are joined by a grateful Jasper. I cover myself in a grey blanket and turn on the TV. I relax on the sofa, happy that my errands for the day are complete. I sigh with relief and content. I love days like today.

*I hope there are no weather-related words here. This one was really challenging but fun!*