Excuse me dear - but it appears to be snowing

I remember standing at the bus stop - in the throws of a dark cold winter, wrapped layer upon layer like a little woolen strudel, when an immaculately dressed elderly lady shuffled close to me and whispered in my ear "Excuse me dear, but it appears to be snowing".

I looked about with wild wonder, only to be bitterly disappointed.  Rain, yes.  Sleet, maybe.  Snow... no where to be seen.  I smiled awkwardly at the old lady and just nodded a little.. again she whispered to me "Dear, it appears to be snowing", she then gave me a long look from my eyes, all the way to my hem line, where her gaze lingered a little to long!!  The bus was pulling up, and I was still confounded until I saw it, the lace on my slip, it was black with a white/cream speckle through it!  I adjusted my skirt and gave the old lady a "knowing look", and she seemed to be satisfied with my actions.

Later that day I relayed the story to my mum who called her mum and yes, it seems that in the charmed olden days, when the hem of a ladies slip fell below the hem of her skirt, one would remark "it appears to be snowing".  I have no idea what the secret code would have been in the middle of a hot summer, but am hoping to bring this secret code back into Vogue!!

Perhaps today of all days it might be most timely to work on bringing the code back, as this morning gave us the first snow of the season on our beloved Mt Wellington.  The boyfriend was dragged out of bed, the house guest shuffled to the window, the sister we let sleep, she is far taller than I am and I think she could knock me out with her hair.. but the three of us stood at the balcony window, wondering how in just a few short days it has gone from mild to wild in old Hobart town.

This week we have a full house of family and friends staying with us, and I could not be prouder of the weather!!Finally the Le Creuset can once again shine in its glory days of meaty casseroles and syrupy stewed fruit, the daggy but delicious flannelet jimmy jams can be worn with pride, and the ratty old blanket my nan made for me as a child can be pulled out of storage for solo snuggling on the couch.  No one will be wanting to drag me outside, I wont feel guilty about mid afternoon weekend naps, and best of all, I pick up the knitting needles again!