Every time I look out a window and see the white flakey stuff coming from the heavens above, making its way to the ground beneath us I hear at least one person sigh, groan or curse. Most people had had enough of the snow long ago, snow that first fell sometime at the end of November and which remained until a week ago. Snow like never before.
Stockholm in the winter is not usually white. At least not from the beginning to the end. But this year has been the exception, the coldest, whitest winter in, what, 50 years? And every time I'm out in it I'm fascinated by it. Fascinated by the snow that lies in piles, that reaches the tops of fence posts, that lies in the fields so pure and white. So unadulterated. Icicles that hang from rooves, signs that warn us of possible snow falling, and paths that are turned into slipery slopes as the snow melts and freezes again.

I love the forms that the ice and the snow create, whether it be a naturally occuring icicle-sculpture on a friend's patio, the frosted trees or the different forms of snow. For most Aussies, snow is snow, but it doesn't take long here in the north before you soon learn that there is a whole lot more to ice and snow. And after a winter like this one knowledge that the Sami language contains some 300 words for snow and ice no longer seems so absurd.
Before I moved to Sweden I knew but one word for these little white flakes - snow. This year however, has been an exception and I have seen with my own eyes snow that looks like glittering shavings of coconut (at about -20 C), very dry snow, (wet) packing snow - also known as huggable snow, and snow that looks like little polystyrene balls (very cute). I've noticed immediately when the temperature has risen and the snow on the roads has changed colour, lost its purity as it absorbed the dirt and oil, or when it has fallen en-mass and left me wondering if I am driving on a road or a sandy beach.

In the book titled Snow Yngve Ryd outlines the importance of snow for the reindeer herders in the north of Sweden. He provides rare insight into the Sami knowledge of snow and the fack that there are words to describe snow when it is so deep it reachers the reindeers' stomach, when single snowflakes fall, when there are patches of snow in the autumn and so on, and so on. Some 300 hundred words to describe what most Stockholmers have well and truly had enough of and what the northerners endure for a good 5 months of the year. Might be time to get a copy of this one and see what more I can learn, if not about snow then about its impact on the life and work of the reindeer hearders, and the Sami culture.

I've heard many around me say that this winter in Stockholm has reminded them of winters in the north and snow in March is much preferred to the usual slush, puddles and 5 C. With the cooler, crisper temperatures we have had the most glorious sunny days - a real treat to have snow and sun combined.
After a week of milder temperatures, melting snow mounds and growing puddles, most of us thought that spring had finally sprung. But as I look outside the window I see some 10cm that has fallen again today and I wonder if it will ever arrive. At least the kids will be happy to have more snow to play in. Or will they?
