It tends to be a sporadic thing in Ireland. Only now and then do you get enough of it to lie for very long: and then it tends to hit all at once — like the blizzard we had in 2002 — and paralyze the whole area for days.
The last few days, though, have been an exception to the rule. For nearly a week it’s snowed a little every day, in little showers that come and go, sometimes with sunshine in between. Sometimes what’s fallen has melted away within an hour or two: sometimes it’s lain around being decorative for most of the day. 
Last night, though, some fairly heavy and prolonged falls came through, leaving us with three inches or so on the ground this morning, and more still coming down. The cats are mostly bemused. The younger ones have rarely seen so heavy a fall: Bubble, in particular, who’s only two, has never seen anything like this, and has been walking around the back yard with a “WTF??” expression. Beemer has been chasing her around in it (though a couple of days ago she kept coming into the house, during the less heavy snow showers, and complaining to me — I think the gist of the complaint was “The sky is busted: stuff that I can see is falling out of it!”). Goodman has mostly been sleeping through all this: he doesn’t seem to care for the snow much.
But Squeak, now — Squeaky is in his element, for Squeak is a “skog”, a Norwegian forest cat. Equipped with extra fur between his toes, extra fur in his ears to keep the snow out of them, and a coat too dense for the snow to get through, he’s completely ready for this kind of thing. He stood on the doorstep after breakfast and looked out at the back yard, and his eyes got wide. You could almost see the “race memory” kicking in (“Hey, I know what this is for…!!”). Within minutes he was rolling around in the white stuff and scampering like a kitten. As soon as there’s enough snow to drift, he’ll dive headfirst into the biggest snowdrift he can find and be gone for minutes at a time (I saw him do this during the blizzard).
As for me, my main encounter with the snow this morning was to go out and make sure the birds’ peanut feeders were full, then hightail it back inside. I’ve got a cup of tea, and a fire in the fireplace, and the snow isn’t interfering with the satellite broadband: I’m happy.
(“You’re so easily amused,” says the Voice from Upstairs. And he’s absolutely right. Herself forfend it should ever be any other way.)
