On the very first day of this brand new year, in the very early morning,
I discovered how quickly rain can change to friendly snow....
can change to a heart-racing snowball war...
can change to frozen mounds of ice..
can change to compressed ice
can change to slippery death-paths!
An elderly gentleman, armed with a crutch, stopped to give us tactical advice about how to get across Grattan bridge (the best of Dublin's bridges...a horse-mermaid at every lamppost!)
the sickening slip
I hope he got home safely. I assume he did. Although, the above is what flashed through my mind as he skated away.
the texture of the paths
Slippery as dancing on bars of soap, we slid separate ways back to warmth, clutching at pillars of snow, elbows and railings that stick to exposed, pink hands.