It is zero degrees Celsius today, freezing point.
At 7:40am the taxi driver buzzes our front door, and Cate skips downstairs, bundled in long johns, a turtleneck, a hooded sweater, a fleece jacket layered into a ski jacket, a knit hat with earflaps and a pair of gloves. Ironically, she wears neither her rain boots nor her snow boots, opting instead for her brand new “professional sports” shoes – glorified sneakers that may or may not be waterproof.
Eden and I leave for our 15 minute walk to her school a few minutes later. We too are clad against the weather. Eden points out that in Denmark, you could wear a neon t-shirt covered with puff paint and sequins and it would not even matter, because all anyone ever sees is your coat. (Thankfully, I have a large collection of vintage outerwear – not that a true Dane would ever be seen in any of them. Not a single one is black.)
The streets have thin sheet of black ice, which reminds Eden of the time she and Rosie slid around on black ice in front of the school. (She is ever so knowledgeable about its dangers.) Our sidewalks here are crystalline now, powdered with something that falls between snow and hail. Eden is captivated by the swirling ice patterns on the car hoods – for some reason the ice has frozen itself into a peacock fan on each one. By the time we get to school the church bells are ringing-out the start of class and we are rosy-checked from the weather.
It was sunny on the way to the skole, but as I walk back home the clouds roll in. By the time I hit the front door, hail is coming down in angled sheets.
Now, it’s 18:00 and the Mediterranean White Bean soup is on the stove, the pull apart rolls are in the oven, and everyone is reading in the living room. Outside the window, in the light of the streetlamp, I can see that the snow is blowing exactly parallel to the streets, and I am glad to be inside surrounded by warmth.