Late on Boxing Night it came. Great feathery flakes, the size of the golden coins in the boys stockings. Quickly settling and blanketing the village, our Boxing Day get together came to a swift end with family bundling back into the cars to get back over the hills.
My sister has often been stuck trying to get back to Buxton and thankfully they made it over the treacherous Axe Edge just in time before the roads were closed.
Mum and Dad live only four miles away but the last mile up the hill was too much for their car and they had to hike up together in the dark. Luckily they're made of sturdy stuff. This morning, knowing that everyone had made it back home safely, meant I could revel in our wintry, festive landscape.
Snow at Christmas time is something I cross my fingers for every year, never imagining it might come. A couple of inches dusted our valley but a mile or two away in Leek there's been a huge dump and pictures from friends in Buxton make it look like Narnia!
I know its nothing like in Europe or the States, but this dusting, when we have our Christmas trees and fairy lights up and have time to sledge and build snowmen, is precious. Christmas snow; the very best type there is. xxx