That lyric in the post title, from a Pete Green song is a perfect one today. I'm living in Winter Wonderland. For you all who think of Sweden as the land of snow - well right now, it is! It really is. It's been snowing on and off for more than a week and with temperatures nudging the minus 40C mark in the north of the country and minus 15C or so here, there is no mistaking the "winter" part of Winter Wonderland. But I love this time of year.

I'm not always so enamoured of the white stuff. I still dislike November and February as months here, mostly because the snow falls as a light, bitter powder and the landscape looks barren and dead in the increasing winter darkness. Much like this wonderful, timeless image (The Hunters in the Snow) painted in 1565 by the Flemish artist Pieter Bruegel.




That kind of snow does nothing to soften the earth's sharpness. In November and February the snow only outlines things and makes the trees look really bare, the town a little meaner. I feel the weight of that during those months.

But March is a whole different proposition. Yes, it is achingly cold when you go out, but the snow is so different. Snow is an absolute blessing when it softens the edges of the world, when it falls like a blanket covering everything.




The word that springs to mind when I think of March is hesitation - that time of anticipation and pause. The skies are a clear blue, the trees are soft, grey and still leafless, although the buds are ready to burst with new growth and the beautiful little forest birds come out to forage again and brighten up my day. This tiny blåmes (blue tit) is only one of the charming little visitors we have in our garden.




Many expats here are now openly complaining about the cold and snow and declaring that it's high time it all went away. But I find this hesitation in March to be quite cheering. It is all about expectation, a slow gathering of power, a hopeful time of the year. It feels great to be alive and to be out enjoying the sunshine and the confident expectation that things can only get better.




Out on the water... well there is no visible water. Everything is covered by a sheet of ice, then a foot or so of snow. The drifts are so high now that the piers are slowly disappearing and some of the boats left by thier owners for the winter are at risk of disappearing as well. I am puzzled as to why people leave such expensive things out in the weather with no care or thought until spring - when it is usually too late!




It's still slim pickings for most of the birds, but some of the more pushy species like the crows are happy to muscle in on the food supplies of any other birds, no matter how large the other bird is. This morning I watched out of my kitchen window as a pair of crows took on a large bird of prey (I'm almost certain it was an osprey) and sent it packing, returning to the snow banks to act as sentinels.




These crows are nothing like the sleek, glossy black crows we get in South Australia, but are more of a soft grey colour. I wonder if I should tell them that we South Aussies are called croweaters?

They claim their fair share of food at the harbour as well. No matter if it is a crust of bread, a discarded bit of hotdog or a few chips you will find these crows marching right up to the other birds and telling them to clear off. Most of them do so.




The clear, fresh air and blinding snow makes everything look sharp and bright and even the houses take on a new character in these days just before spring.




The long icicles hanging from the rooftops are formed each day by the action of the sun on the snow lying on the roof. It drips slowly during the relative warmth of the morning, but as the afternoon temperatures plummet they become frozen in time and hang down like enormous crystal sculptures.




See what I mean about it being a winter wonderland? Sunny days, pure white snow, blue skies and the sure knowledge that the sun is getting stronger and stronger as each day passes.