Snowy Paris

I was born and raised in beautiful sunny Southern California, a fixture at the beach and my aunties swimming pool, and a dedicated worshiper of "le bain de soliel". Before moving to Paris I thought freezing meant 58° Fahrenheit. In a particularly cold winter in San Diego we might enjoy snowfall in the higher elevations of the Cuyamaca mountain range, but snow is a novelty there and a white Christmas would be nothing short of a miracle. It is perhaps for this reason I have an almost childlike fascination for the snow, I have never had to live with it! What a delight to wake up last friday morning to find the world blanketed in prisine white, the evergreen hedges guarding the fenceline tipped in frost and the bright red berries of the holly tree adding a touch of contrast. I opened the window and inhaled the crisp fresh air, what parfum! I love the sound of snow - the quietude, the way it crunches under your feet when it's fresh, the melody of the falling snowflakes. Adding to the pleasure was the presence of my sister, visiting for the holidays from her new digs in Oklahoma. I woke her with the suprise, "C'est neige!" I made some hot chocolate and we bundled up for a day in snowy Paris. There was electricity in the air that day, a mélange of joy mixed with danger as snowball fights broke out willy-nilly and parisians trod carefully on the slippery sidewalks and icy cobblestone streets. It was the last day of school before Christmas vacation - and half day at that - the joyful noise of children free from the confines of a classroom pierced the air in every arrondissement, causing even the most depressed and pessimistic parisian to smile. How beautiful everything looked, dusted like a cake with powdered sugar! I took pictures like a tourist and we warmed up with crèpes and coffee. It is an unusual year in terms of weather here in Europe, and the snow lingered several days - usually it turns to slush within hours. The eurostar to London was cancelled for several days, one was even stalled on the tracks for a very long time causing hungry and cold passengers to be stranded interminably. Tires skidded on the ice without traction, motorcycycles went down. The citywide sale of chocolat chaud increased tenfold and everyone had a story to share at dinner. Ultimately the sun burned through the winter haze and melted the lingering patches of ice as parisians prepared for Noel, rushing about until the very last minute shopping for gifts and desserts. The sun went down on a cold and clear Yuletide eve accompanied by a delicious meal shared with family, and a sense of contentment and gratitude for all my blessings. J'adore snowy Paris!