Snow passages

Snow is still my song;
more falls and more to come
they say.

Here's two snow pieces that I'd like to share:

What's up, Ratty?' asked the Mole.
   `Snow is up,' replied the Rat briefly; `or rather, down. It's snowing hard.'
  The Mole came and crouched beside him, and, looking out, saw the wood that had been so dreadful to him in quite a changed aspect. Holes, hollows, pools, pitfalls, and other black menaces to the wayfarer were vanishing fast, and a gleaming carpet of faery was springing up everywhere, that looked too delicate to be trodden upon by rough feet. A fine powder filled the air and caressed the cheek with a tingle in its touch, and the black boles of the trees showed up in a light that seemed to come from below.   ( From The Wind in the willows  by Kenneth Grahame)

A few light taps upon the pane made him turn to the window. It had begun to snow again. He watched sleepily the flakes, silver and dark, falling obliquely against the lamplight. The time had come for him to set out on his journey westward. Yes, the newspapers were right: snow was general all over Ireland. It was falling on every part of the dark central plain, on the treeless hills, falling softly upon the Bog of Allen and, farther westward, softly falling into the dark mutinous Shannon waves. It was falling, too, upon every part of the lonely churchyard on the hill where Michael Furey lay buried. It lay thickly drifted on the crooked crosses and headstones, on the spears of the little gate, on the barren thorns. His soul swooned slowly as he heard the snow falling faintly through the universe and faintly falling, like the descent of their last end, upon all the living and the dead.  (From the short story The Dead by James Joyce)

Look and laugh

My kitchen floor

This is after the February earthquake. It doesn't normally look this bad. Took ages to clean up - a lovely melange of broken glass and crockery, honey and oil. My Bunnykins cup and saucer from my childhood and a blue and white Burslem chafing dish were the major losses.

Mount Kailas, Tibet

Kailas's presence can be felt - whatever the size, a photo by hvprasad on Flickr.

Armchair pilgrim

Just finished reading Colin Thubron's book To a mountain in Tibet. Wonderful book, the best kind of travel writing, that makes you feel as if you've been there. Thubron is able to write simply but profoundly, and writes without making any judgements or inserting his own ego into the picture. Highly recommended.
  Now I have to go and have a lie down. I've just circumnabulated Mt Kailas and I'm cold and hungry and have altitude sickness.

Sinny and Trusannah

Is anyone else sick of Trinny and Susannah? Just looking at the Down Under makeover series - each episode is the same. T & S descend on some public place to pick out what they consider to be sartorial horrors. Once the victim is located they home in and make rude remarks  ("You look like a female Crocodile Dundee".) Because they are celebs they get away with this - anyone else would be told to naff off.  They coo sympathetically over the target, who will sometimes oblige with tears "Yes, I've let myself go since my ex dumped me/ had breast cancer/ lost my job". Hugs all round. Victim further obliges by baring her all for T & S and confessing that she hates her thighs, boobs, feet, eyelids, whatever.
  T & S then talk to each other about the victim  behind her back "Poor dear, she has no self esteem, blah blah. Let's change her life completely by tarting her up a bit".
   If only changing someone's life were so simple.
  And who are they to judge who has self-esteem issues or not? Is it not possible that I dress like a slob because my self-esteem is not rooted in how other people percieve me?  If they don't like what they see, is that my problem or theirs?
  I don't want to teeter on four inch heels - it's not good for my sciatica. I don't want to look like mutton dressed as lamb, as some pathetic old cougar waiting for someone to pick her up. Perhaps I think I have better things to do with my time than spend hours on my appearance. I have heaps of self-esteem - it's about being who I am, not what I look like.
  And aren't T & S themselves looking just a bit haggard these days?
  Take that, you  bags.

Books I'm reading

Books about Tibet seem to be on my reading list this month, neatly coinciding with our recent snowfall. The first book is The Heart of the world by Ian Baker, about his travels in Tibet searching for the fabled waterfall supposedly hidden in the gorge of the Tsangpo river, the place that has been transformed in the West as the legend of Shangri-la. It's a mixture of adventure and Buddhist philosophy. If you liked Peter Matthiesen's The snow leopard you will love this, although I'm not sure if Baker's motives are quite as disinterested as he makes out, but his observations on the way we percieve landscape, that landscape is a reflection of our inner state, is mind-opening. Oddly enough I heard similar views expressed the other night on Justin Paton's TV programme How to look at a painting. The other book is Colin Thubron's To a mountain in Tibet, about the author's pilgrimage to Mount Kailas, considered to be by Buddhists to be the hub of the turning world, the centre of everything. I haven't really started this yet, but no doubt it will be good.