Yesterday we were hit by a April snowstorm that lasted most of the day. Most people rushed home after work trying to avoid the wet snow but with my trusty boots and a curious disregard for the perils of mild hypothermia I decided to go for a walk. In fact everyone went home because I didn’t come across anyone as foolish as me in the two miles that I walked. I have walked on clifftops in gale force wind so I wasn’t going to let a snowstorm get in the way of a bit of exercise.
I walked along the Charles River for about a mile until I came to a bridge and crossed it and walked back on the other side of the river to the train station. It was snowing heavily and even the twin landmarks of the Prudential Building and the Hancock Tower were invisible in the gloom. It was wonderfully atmospheric though and with the grey and white colours I felt like I was wandering through a Victorian novel except with less workhouses. I wandered along watching the snowflakes in a happy reverie until a near miss with a car indicated I should probably watch the traffic too.
I ended up with tired legs (walking in the snow makes me walk differently) and very wet clothes but I felt really alive. That’s all that matters right?