Snow at Both Ends

Over New Year my son and his girlfriend joined us in the Czech Republic for a week. It was a delight to have them in the house and nice to see them so relaxed. It is my hope that they will feel that they can come any time, whether or not we are there. We stood together on the terrace of Cesky Krumlov castle as the clock chimed the New Year in and the sky exploded with fireworks. We took them to Cesky Krumlov, Ceske Budejovice and Lake Lipno and were tourists again. We ate out a fair bit, including a meal at the Old Gaol where my son renewed his acquaintance with their steak roasted on an open fire.

My son had talked up the possibility of snow to his girlfriend and the weather duly obliged. Unfortunately it was also depositing snow in England. I took them and my husband to Prague Airport and left them to catch the Easyjet flight home to Bristol. On the underground train to the coach station I overheard an English couple talking about a flight cancellation. I lent across and asked them about it - it was the Easyjet Flight to Bristol. They thought it was canceled but they weren't sure. I sat on the coach back to Krumlov worrying, my husband had left his Czech phone at home and so I had no way of contacting him.

Later that night my mother rang from England. Had I heard what had happened? The weather was terrible, airports closed all over the place, roads impassable. My husband rang her from the hotel in Prague, where Easyjet had lodged them, and so I was able to ring him. They had booked themselves at great cost on to a British Airways flight only to hear from someone in the hotel restaurant that that too had been cancelled. Now they were not able to get away for another three days. I stood at the window watching the snow falling on my Czech village.

On the Saturday my mother rang again. Had I heard? What was happening? If they did make it to England ,the roads to Gloucesterhire were awful. She was under the impression, that my husband was keeping me up to date, wrongly as he had better things to do. I contacted my Czech friend and got her to check the internet for flights to Heathrow. Two flights had managed to get away that evening, but were they on it? I did not know. I did not know until Sunday evening, when my husband rang me from our English home. As he wrote in an email to "Phew!"

Diamonds in the Snow

Yesterday I went for a walk with my friend Salamander. We took the path up to the woods above my house, the weather was perfect – sun, snow, a clear blue sky, a deep blue I have never seen in England. We are having extremely low temperatures at present -20 degrees last night. It is as they say too cold to snow, the water vapour stays in the air and forms snow-like crystals over everything. On Saturday morning you could even see the ice hanging in the air where the sunlight shafted down, minute crystals would flash in shimmering clouds, a glimpse of the spirits of the Czech winter working their magic. Now we reaped the benefit of their work, we walked through ankle-deep virgin snow, broken only by occasional animal tracks. On the snow's surface flowers of ice crystal bloomed and shone in the sunlight. The branches of the dark firs at the forest edge were picked out by white.


We walked through woods, now bereft of the birdsong which had accompanied my mushrooming forays in the summer and autumn, the only sound being the crunch of the snow and occasional branch crack. Ducking under an electric fence we followed the edge of the forest down a steep slope – in the distance the Klet was bathed in sun, but with a scarf of low cloud around its shoulders. Crossing a frozen stream we regained the path and returned to the house and warm mugs of tea.

As dusk fell Salamander departed and I settled down with a book whilst the woodstove chugged in the corner. Then the phone rang – it was Salamander. “If you can, take a look at the moon.” I walked into the yard at the end of the orchard the moon full hung just above the old apple trees – large and orange. The light was so bright, the orchard was lit up as if in daylight. This morning I left the house at 8am to walk to Horice na Sumave to catch the bus into town. The sun was rising and the sky was coloured. As I walked I watched the sun turn the white snow yellow and the ice on the trees a peach colour. My house stood glowing in the light on the other side of the village. And just to finish off the enchantment across the fields as bold as brass ran my fox. I had not seen him since my return from England at New Year. He looked across the field at me, sniffed the morning air and darted into the cover of the woods. The dawn sun had turned his coat a dark auburn. By the time I got to Horice the world was white again.