Coming home late tonight I was driving through yet another snow storm. Nothing too serious but enough to be covering the road. It wasn't unexpected as snowfalls and blizzards have been a hot (but chilly)topic on my favourite radio station for a couple of days.
Having been snowed in at home for a sum total of 18 days (not all consecutive days) I can say without a shadow of a doubt I'm sick of snow. However, what I'm not fed up with is the increasingly creative ways newscasters and weather forecasters have been trying to report on the same thing without saying the same thing.
Yesterday one radio announcer warned us that we should brace ourselves in the North East for another wintry weather front approaching from the chilly North bringing with it a band of organised snow. Today a different radio station reported that some parts of Aberdeenshire were experiencing a keen flurry of snowfall. The increasing personification of the weather cushions the news that more snow is scheduled to come our way in such a way that it's hard not to look forward to hearing these reports.
Once safely home, the snow had died down and the skies had cleared and I stood looking up at the stars. The sheer volume of them that are visible with the naked eye always takes my breath away. As I watched a few individual snowflakes drifted from the rooftop, I wondered - as mind boggling as the number of stars I could see was the thought that in all the annoying feet of snow I've seen just over the last few weeks is the fact that no two individual snowflakes are the same. Incomprehensible and incalculable, so perhaps Christmas miracles are all around us but we just don't take the time to recognise them.
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