
"No crusading blue figure came roaring down in heavenly anger."
I studied this short story, by Sylvia Plath, two years ago for my English Literature GCSE and felt it was very appropriate for today's snow related post. This wonderfully descriptive, semi auto-biographical text is symbollic of different things on many levels. It depicts the exacting danger and encroachment of war upon America, describes how precious and fragile innocence is and examines the cruelty of children, amongst many other things; I decided today that this story perfectly mirrored my feelings regarding snow.
The story is set in the depths of early year winter during a period of heavy snow, much like the that which we are experiencing here in England. The narrator describes how the snow changes from being a beautiful equipper of fun to slush, ugly brown slush. This change occurs as the child journeys from innocence to experience; this process is one I am undergoing as an eighteen year old ready for University. More importantly it allows me to view snow in an adverse way, I hate it now. Being stuck in Illingworth as opposed to my home in Wyke (40 minutes by car) gives me every reason to loath the white barrier being snow. I wish I was young again, with and older brother at school, a sledge in my garage and a pocket full of dreams. On the brighter side, my dreams are now coming true.
Lyndsey x
