First Snow

I am at home at my keyboard wrapped in several layers of wool. Outside there is a dusting of snow hiding in the corners of the hedges and the bushes, blanketing the bright yellow blooms of the primrose, a hearty variant of a local native plant struggling to thrive in a cold spate.

The ferry did not run yesterday. I was relieved. When the sea and the wind fight with each other to see which can outdo the other, I prefer to watch from some cozy living room. It is a remarkable spectacle but definitely not one that I like to see up close. Seeing the snow on the ground today is like picking up the broken glass after the brawling winds have settled in to sleeping it off in a corner.

Although relieved to have the wind abated, the snow this early in the season is worrying. In my four years here, I have never seen snow this early. Four years is not a long time, but it is all the time that I have in my weather data base. It may be a short never, but this anomaly rattles around in my brain--what does this betoken? When I ask my husband, he speaks in simple syllables that speak volumes, "Cold." "Early winter."

The geese that come down from the arctic to the relative warmth of Caithness have been and gone already. That can be seen as a indication of an early winter. This gust of cold is also a gift from the arctic. I prefer the geese, even though they eat the grass that our cattle need. Like the primrose, braving smiling through her blanket of snow, and the geese who moved to warmer if not greener pastures, I'll find a way to accommodate this arctic visitor.