Where is the Snow?

Except for a few days November, and particularly the first part of December, has been very mild. Mild weather at this time of the year, that also means clouds and fog and rain — and gales. Adding the fact that it turns dark at 4.30pm I can’t help myself from feeling locked in. After work it means a great effort even to take the dog for a walk let alone do some work around the garden. (There is still a big heap of flat stones that I have collected at the beach to lay out my paths with.)
On top of this gloomy weather there has been a dreadful case of child murder in a neighbouring village where a mentally deranged mother killed all her five sons only yesterday. Usually catastrophes like this happen somewhere far off, but not in our peaceful little area. So everybody here is virtually under shock. The media have overrun the poor people in the village trying to get at whatever unimportant comment any of them could make. And on TV you see the same reporters lamenting about the hype that is being created around this sorry case — talking about hypocrisy here.
There is nothing to make this undone, and I wonder if ever any seasonal feelings will come up this year, however, some cold, frosty weather would help to clear our minds. This unnerving rain is the best friend of depression.