Our first footsteps on the crispy, creaking snow (perfect for snowman construction! - as I shouted to 
And as the day progressed, we realised that mostly everyone was snowed-in; no cars in the road - perhaps the thick snowfall was muffling the heavier traffic at the bottom of the valley, also. Our car certainly wouldn't be going anywhere for a few days...
The snow lasted relatively poco tempo , but our side of the mountain - the side with less direct sunlight - still has white patches of frozen deliciousness in its nooks and crannies. But only a couple of days later and all the (remaining) vegetation (if it hasn't melted from the cold) is standing up bright and invigorated!
As are Vincent and I! It's as if these extreme days and nights slapped us awake: the need to prioritise survival, the treck up to the village on foot over glistening icy layers, the scrabbling around for wood and the rationing of tronchetti. The multiple hotwater bottles, and the snuggling even tighter than usual under too-heavy covers. The eking out of what foods we do have, and the exploration of our land under snow...
There was a beautiful intensity to every moment that we were 'snowed under'. We shared stories about heavy snow memories from our childhood, whilst trying to keep the house from piling up with damp outside clothing - as with most days, we continued to work outside a lot of the daylight hours; the terazzo needed de-snowed, to prevent epic amounts of water finding its way into our very wet cantina below.
And we wanted to see our land anew, everything tidied up as if by a blanket of light. We explored and photographed how the snow and ice sat on the steep hills, and how certain areas were immune to it; beyond the first, heaviest storm there were soon clear areas below trees and on the sunniest edges.
It was a joy to see all of it: the good and the 'bad' - to feel truly a part of Nature - not separate and acting upon it, but intimately belonging in and with it all. We took our place here, by remaining and watching it unfold. Then acting appropriately.
We learned a great deal, we counted our blessings, and we better concentrated on the next priorities; things we really do not want to have to deal with when the next snowstorm blows in! Like the lack of a window in that hole we made in the kitchen!
We felt all the more motivated during these weather-drama days - so much more so than when it has rained in extremis! Very cold weather has had a wonderfully enlivening effect. Part of it being the adrenalin of figuring it out on-the-hoof, and the rest the actual labour of steep hill-climbing in frozen and/ or blizzarding conditions.
Finding ourselves this week invece under sunny blue-skies and even taking our shirts off for the heavy work (at least, Vincent does 🤭🤗), we are focussed and efficient about gathering a larger stock of wood, and getting the place more windproof.
Today we even got the glass in that kitchen window: it changes everything! We can look outside when washing our dishes! The light makes walking into that room much, much more lovely! We have a mini window ledge to put things on!
Small things like this are tremendously rejuvenating; they remind us - as does the snow - that we are made for this: we can do it. This is not always evident, and being reminded does help us regain perspective (where we might've lost it a little in our overwhelm!)
The snow melts, and we are renewed and invigorated - reinspired and courageous again to continue creating a magical homestead and a higher vibrational era.
