Nothing is certain

Illustration by Tove  Jansson

Our bedtime story this week is Moominland Midwinter. Tove Jansson describes a Scandinavian winter so vividly that as soon as we begin our chapter we are immediately transported to that cold, sleeping, snowy world. Because here, most creatures - including the moomins - are hibernating, and everything is light-starved, immobilised by ice, and rounded by snow. The story begins when Moomintroll wakes up and goes exploring; he experiences snow for the first time and meets the wakeful creatures of winter. 

Butterfield Green in the snow

With rather Scandinavian weather conditions in the UK this week, we've certainly been having our share of snowy adventure too; from an evening of exhilarating and scream-fuelled sledging on Primrose Hill where the slopes were lit only by the beautiful park lights, to a late-night walk through a strangely hushed and deserted Butterfield Green - now an enchanted winter fairyland. 

Too-ticky's snow lantern

When we read how Moomintroll spotted a most welcome beacon in the dark, a snow lantern, made by Too-ticky - a small sugar-loaf of a house, built of round snowballs, softly glowing with a lit candle inside - we decided to build our own. It was pretty easy; we just made about ten snowballs, arranged them in a circle on the ground and then added a few more on top, in a sort-of miniature igloo. Then we popped a bike light inside before placing the last snowball on top. It does look rather magical outside our house.

Our snow-lantern

Then Daddy and Daisy made a snow-Moomintroll and a snow-Snork Maiden to go with the lantern; aren't they adorable? It's lovely to know they're both nearby while we're reading our winter moomin book. 

Our snow-sculptures - inspired by the moomins in midwinter

To Moomintroll, like all young children, snow is a great mystery. When he asked Too-ticky to tell him about it because he didn't understand it, she explained that she didn't either. She said, 

'You think it's cold but if you build yourself a snow-house it's warm. You think it's white but sometimes it looks pink and another time it's blue. It can be softer than anything, and then again harder than stone. Nothing is certain.'

Indeed for many children in the UK, nothing is certain this week - not even being able to go to school, it seems. But while there's snow on the ground, and children there to see it, there will always be wonderful things to try, and new experiences to share.

Illustration by Tove Jansson

Such a perfect day

Windows frosty enough to write our names in? Yes. Puddles covered in enough ice to satisfyingly crack with our feet? Yes. But enough snow to make our footsteps creak, and to build a snowman? No. Not here. I tried not to get my children's hopes up too much but, truth be told, I was really wishing for snow as well. While we waited, and hoped - and checked the weather forecasts far too often - we distracted ourselves with some winter-themed play. We made ice-art by pouring water over shells into shallow containers - leaving them out in the garden to freeze, and we played Cars on Ice on our frozen water table. 

We stuck cling-on snowflakes to our windows to entice the snow to North London. 

We made a wintry playlist on itunes, read snow-themed stories and, with a mixture of silver glitter and white poster paint, my children made some fabulous snowy pictures. 

But it still didn't snow. Until today.

When children are very small, snow is often a brand new phenomenon - like so many things, of course. But, as my two have had at least two snowy days in their lives, to them, the idea of snow has a dream-like quality based on memories and experience. They remember, vaguely, their surroundings being transformed by snow into a magical, sparkling white wonderland - where there were endless snowball fights, toboggan rides of Olympic-competition quality, and where exquisite snowmen were crafted by their own skilled hands without the slightest bit of snow seeping through their gloves.

Of course the reality of a snowy day is often far from this idyllic dream of day-long creativity, sport and wholesome Alpine fun.  With young children especially, we have to make sure they're head-to-toe snow-proofed before even venturing out at all for a start, and even then fun in the snow can sometimes be surprisingly and disappointingly short-lived. Having said that, I was reminded today of how important it is to actually make the effort and get your little ones out there in it. Ignore the cynics who moan about it because they need to get to work (I did too, you know). Get out there in it as soon as you can. And PLAY.

You don't need much, apart from appropriate clothing, to play in the snow. Initiating making a snowman, or snow-castles, or snow angels, or mastering the art of snowball-making is often plenty for little ones to be happily and excitedly engaged for quite a while. Add buckets and spades, and twigs and leaves - and then you'll really get their creative juices flowing and imaginations flying.

And if you discover that your shell ice-art has been totally ruined and buried in the snow (oh well), turn archaeologist and dig out its buried treasure instead. 

Snow is such a novelty here that UK children won't remember how cold they got, and how soon they wanted to get back inside. But they will remember every snow-day of their childhood - their snowmen, all those sledge (or tray) rides; their playtime in the snow. They'll remember each time as a special, perfect day - when the world was white, and they made the best ever thing out of snow and they played the best ever things you can play in the snow. They're good like that.