Where are the snows of yesteryear?

This is an old picture of a tree in the back garden of my parents's place. Nothing to do, sadly, with the current place I am living in and the current outdoor temperature. It is pouring rain here, it has been, on and off, for the last week or so. One might not like snow as much as me, but I think anybody could admit that it is still better than the quasi flood we have to deal with these days. It looks nicer, it feels nicer and I daresay it is not as cold. From what I can see in the weather news in Québec, there is not all that much snow there either. But at least there is always the possibility. Here chances are slim.

So, like every for autumn turning into winter that I spend in England, I ask myself, like François Villon in his most famous ballad "where are the snows of yesteryear"? Yes, I miss the snow every year, just like I quote Villon every year, but this time I am more conscious of it as I am supposed to stay in England (or at least Europe) for Christmas, so there is a good chance that I will not see any snow for Christmas. For a Northerner like me, it is quite a loss. And there is also the impact of nostalgia, of course.

But anyway, as pictures of rainy day might turn the blog gloomier than the last few posts and since winter will eventually show up (albeit in its grey, English form), I thought I might as well put a picture of some snow. It might put me in a better modd and help me quote with nostalgia. And in spite of all that I have said here, do not worry about me: I will reconcilate myself with English weather. After all, it gave us such a fascinating and colourful wildlife, so it cannot be all bad.