It’s a sleepy sort of day at my house after a rather hectic week. I am so excited that the weekend is nearly here.
I have chicken divan bubbling in the crockpot and am reminiscing about a freezing but gorgeous walk I took in Amsterdam one stormy December.
The ice storm was fierce and left glorious ice sculptures in its wake. Strolling through the ice-coated neighborhoods made me feel like I had been dropped into a Dutch Fairyland.
Snow was piled everywhere, big puffy chunks falling off wrought iron gates, over-loaded tree branches and telephone poles.
Vondel Park was exquisitely beautiful. Normally filled with the sounds of bicycle bells, running feet, and the shrieks of playing children, it was almost silent under the heavy weight of snow. I absolutely loved the colored lights dangling between the snow-covered trees.
I was delighted by the Dutch kids making sliding runs out of the steepest hills they could find: the numerous little bridges crossing frozen streams and lakes. It reminded me of my childhood on the prairies of Alberta, Canada. We too could make a sliding run out of anything in that flat country.
Stopping for rum-spiked hot chocolate was the best on that frosty day. I clambered up slippery steps to a tower overlooking the park and sighed happily as I sipped my boozy drink and looked out over the wintry wonderland.
Heading back to town I passed one of my favorite cafes and smiled to see that in spite of the snow, ice and biting winds, someone had thought it a good idea to sip their coffee at one of the sidewalk tables.
Back in civilization the signs of Christmas popped up outside front doors and on the stoops of brightly lit shops.
I liked this fat little Christmas tree standing so cheerily by the bright orange door, and the sprouting pussy willows made me smile. It didn’t feel like Spring, but it was lovely to think about it.
I returned home with red cheeks, snow-covered boots and a very happy heart.
Where is your favorite snowy place?