For the first time in years it snowed. Real snow, white and puffy. It is so nice to look at and made me all smiles. The air seems to clean out, it smells just great.

Usually, at exactly this point in time, there is call for severe action: get in the cellar, check the skies. Look for the sleigh. Are any metal bits rusty? Where to find sandpaper to fix it. Where is the rest of the skiing gear: boots, gloves, the fat, wooly stockings, headband, salopettes, anorak? Check. And always: where is the second ski stick. As a rule, they separate, while stored over summer. If – by miracle – both are there, still one is missing the disc at its lower end or features a broken handle loop.

But just a millisecond later I recover from my inbred alpine reaction: I live in Berlin now, it is flat as a pan – no skiing anywhere. And while it is still great to have snow, it is only one inch deep. Likely to be gone tomorrow. Bummer.

However, don’t be ingrate, girl! It still smells like the air has been freshend up. The white softened all the sharp edges. And there was the odd piece of untouched ground, where to leave ones footprints in. Nothing better than that, even if it lasts for just a day.