I don’t get it, I love the snow. It makes me smile and want to run for my camera and become a prolific photographer. Watching me chase snowflakes is a sight to be seen. Being the first person to walk on new snow with only my footprints makes me smile. I wonder at the magic of it all.
So why, oh why, after two days does this love turn to hate? The beautiful snow turns to treacherous ice. I become paranoid about fall over and breaking an arm or a leg. I broke my writs a few years ago when I lived in a small village that had 1 bus a day. I felt so isolated and lonely, I expect that’s why I hate the ice.