The 5 year old is unimpressed, losing hope of snowmen before the spring. He has known proper snow before - glittering woods and white fields for miles - 2 years ago.
But the baby not. And she would love the snow. On crisps dark nights she cranes her neck and points skyward to the stars. Calls aloud.
Let it snow. Not on train lines or busy roads. But our home. Slate roof and stone - carrot awaiting a snowman of its own... x