Last year, in Ekerö, I watched a small machine drive along the road picking up the grit in order to reuse it next season. The next day it snowed. The other night, we were sitting watching TV and a big machine headed up the road, sucking up the grit. Then, yesterday, it snowed. It’s like the snow knows and is being mischievous.
When I walked outside to go shopping, I could have done with a bit of the grit. I managed to walk up to the road, but then the ice sent me back to put my spikes on. It was ice rink territory on the road.
The temperature was hovering around the zero mark, but the wind was full on Arctic blasts. Still, it all looked very pretty, particularly when I reached the woods.
As I reached Trosa Centrum, which was almost completely deserted, the wind had almost managed to blow away the grey clouds. It was an elemental tussle which the sun was slowly winning.
When I returned to our street, most of the ice had gone from the road and our driveway was gravel again. Not that it was much warmer, but the sun had been strong enough to melt everything. Even me.
Given the wind chill, I’d started out for the shops wearing trackies under my jeans, two t-shirts, my big fleece, gloves and a beanie. By the time I made it back to the house, I’d lost a few kilos in perspiration. Not that that’s a bad thing.
There’s more snow forecast for tomorrow afternoon. I’m hoping we’ll miss it by going for an early walk.
I bet the weather is different in Portugal.
