The frozen, powdery kind. No, I lie, summer thunderstorms are prolly my favourite, but there is no dispute over the sheer beauty of a snow covered Norfolk.
It was this morning when I loved it the most. sure, I had to get out of bed and go to work at 8am, but when I got out of the house and padded my way down that little road. My footprints were the first of the day, they made that wonderful squashing noise that only untrodden snow can make. And it wasn't quite day yet, it was morning, dawn, there were thick, dark, snow clouds throwing a fine covering of snow at me, and when it wasn't too windy for it to fall straight, you couldn't even see to the other side of the street through it.
And it's silent.
You can't hear snow falling, it just does, and it mutes everything it covers, snowy roads are so quiet, even with cars struggling to hold onto them and crawling at 3mph in 4th gear down them, it just sounds like someone walking on a duvet. It's brilliant.
I've had fun with my snow days, guilty kinda, "I-should-be-revising-not-making-snowmen" fun, but more fun then I would have had worrying about my impending failure at Notre Dame.
Roll on Monday.
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