I spent my teen years growing up in the beautiful, rural village of Grendon. Small, pretty and though not terribly exciting or social, it was easy to love. I relished in the quiet and very much associate the village with big hugs from my Dad, amazing meals cooked by Mum, being bundled by my sister and brother and generally sleeping very well. Last week Steve and I braved the snow and drove a few hours north to return to Grendon for my sister's Birthday celebrations. Snow was thick on the ground when we arrived and when we woke the next morning there was the closest thing I've ever seen to a blizzard happening right outside our window. The whole village looked like Narnia had arrived as we took a walk up the Knoll, threw snow at each other and marveled at how white mush made everything look so beautiful. What is it about snow that makes everyone so excited and happy? xc