Now there’s a milestone – 60 days writing these daily scribbles without fail.

I’m impressed at myself.  I’m not so impressed with Storm Emma.  That rude lady is running very late and hasn’t even had the decency to call or send a message.

Like, is she even on the way or what?  And not just her, the rowdy Beast from the East seems to have transformed into a limp wet-rag; half the snow has melted, the supposed blizzard is nowhere to be seen and while it’s still bloody freezing, everything’s getting dirty and messy as the pristine white snow turns to mucky sludge.

We’re all on lock-down, clamped inside our houses on orders not to go outside UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES and yet, as I glance out the window, I’m pretty sure drove to work and back home yesterday in worse conditions than this.

You see what I meant yesterday about Ireland over-reacting??

To be fair, I can’t complain, I’ve had a luxuriously relaxing day off when I should have been scurrying around the restaurant, stressed and wishing I could be home and have time to work on my blogging and the website for our business.

The best part of this whole snowy saga however, was last night at around 10.30 pm.  Snuggled up by the fire in cosy living room, my Dad came in and asked me and Alex to check out the snow outside.

Literally everything was covered in a thick layer of soft white powder.  Throwing on my wellies and several layers, I walked around the back of the garden while my Dad lobbed a snowball or two at Alex (given the force of them, I reckon he’d been waiting for an excuse to throw something at him for a while now).

Two excited dogs trotted ahead of me, as the eery glow of cloud-covered moon reflected off the vast expanse of white, meaning I could see exactly where I was going without any kind of torch.

Feeling a little bit giddy, I walked down the steps to the bottom of the garden and crossed the narrow steel bridge into the field, with two delighted dogs galloping ahead of me, oblivious to the time of night or the darkness.

We crunched our way over to the fast flowing river, the soothing sounds of the waves lapping against the earth overriding the spookiness of it appearing as a dark, swirling mass.

After walking on I finally decided it was a bit cold and tried to find the dogs.  Eventually their dark shadows materialized in nearby and we trekked back home, passing a bizarre set of prints in the snow; a long, narrow line of 3-pronged prints, which must have been from a tall bird of some kind, heading directly to the river.

I have to wonder why the creature didn’t just fly…

We headed home, threw a few more snowballs at Alex, watched the dogs eat the chunks of snow that had stuck to their paws and then tumbled into our luxuriously warm and cosy bed close to midnight.

If this little experience wasn’t a taste of magic, then it doesn’t exist.  And you know, it’s possible that Emma and the Beast are hiding by the coast, wriggling their bums like crouched, hunting cats, just waiting to pounce.  So in the meantime, stay safe amigos.  And as the wise weather lady once said “Don’t make unnecessary journeys.”

Ciao darlings!

Lizzie xxxx