On Tuesday I departed Bideford, where I had been holed up over Christmas, and headed to Barnstaple, to see an old friend. I stepped out of the house in Bideford, my luggage heavy in my right hand, and felt the cold air on my skin. The air was somehow different to how it had been the last time I had been outside. Within a few steps the strange thought occurred to me, "The air smells like snow. This is real winter air. It's going to snow soon."
I had only been walking a few minutes before my olfactory premonition came true. Something white, halfway between snow and hail, began to fall from the wonderfully overcast skies. When I got on the bus, the fall became heavier, whipping into flurries.
I am sad to say that it was not constant enough in its fall to settle. I have always found people's complaints about snow to be unbelievably adult and tedious. Does every single thing in life have to be controlled, convenient and comfortable? I hope not. The snow gives a taste of freedom from those three abominable Cs.
Now I am back in Twickenham, and there is a cold current moving silently around my unshod feet.
There is one thing that continues to haunt me. How is it that I recognised the scent of snow? I cannot remember what that scent is now, and have no way of describing it. I could try I suppose. It was very crisp and fresh, and, of course, cold. Yes, it was definitely a cold smell. But these three adjectives could describe many things.
How did I know it was the scent of snow, and when will I smell it again?
HI Q,A friend of mine from Kuwait could smell water how wonderful is that ? Snow does have a scent as does rain. It’s new due to not snowing all the time and your senses pick up on it..It’s also a gift that you can smell the snow before it falls, like tasting chocholate before you have any. :)Eve
It’s the hint of something primal, an old instinct for weather that we’ve forgotten, like suddenly remembering part of a dream in the middle of the day for no apparent reason at all. I’m told I can expect Jannuary snow in Hot Springs, which I am eager to see. I agree that snow is like freedom. When I was a kid, school closed when it snowed or was very icy. I remember closing my eyes and begging God that when I pulled back the curtain, I would see the yard blanketed in white. E
“A friend of mine from Kuwait could smell water how wonderful is that ?”That reminds me of the time I was in Japan and a couple of schoolgirls ran out of class together and one of them shouted to the other, “Ame no nioi” – “The smell of rain.”In my case, however, it’s the first time that I remember consciously thinking the air smelt of snow. Curious.”It’s the hint of something primal, an old instinct for weather that we’ve forgotten…”There was something about the experience that I feel I have failed to convey, a sense of imminence, or a sharpening of the atmosphere. Clearly I haven’t quite got a handle on it verbally. You had to be there, as they say.
Anonymous writes:I believe the scent of rain and possibly snow is called perichor. Though the capability of sensing its approach is quite incredible indeed.
‘Petrichor’ is a favourite word of mine. I think I’m right in saying that it’s a portmanteau of ‘petri’ (stone) and ‘ichor’ (the blood of the gods). I’ll have to look it up to be sure. As far as I understand it, that’s the scent of fallen rain, rather than rain – or snow – about to fall, but I could be wrong.I don’t know if I normally have the capability of sensing snow (I’m fairly sure I don’t have any especial capability for sensing the approach of rain), but it was marked on the occasion I describe.
Quentin, there are those of us who can feel storms days away: feel pressure fronts from Chicago moving east across the lakes, really feel the weather coming. And a good thing it is probably for all sailors and travelers and even commuters. When you get it wrong, you can have some very wild moments — such as there you are, on the old canal road, the turn banked wrong so it would tip you into the canal if certain things were to happen, and visibility closing fast.
I’ve actually just read over this post again, and I realised that this is not the occasion that I remembered. In other words, with the occasion above, and the occasion I more distinctly remember, there have actually been at least two times I’ve known – by smell and atmosphere – that it was about to snow. Not enough to qualify me as an old sea dog, but anyway, perhaps it indicates that my senses are not entirely atrophied.I don’t remember ever having a premonition of storm days ahead, though, sadly.
I even walk like a sailor, rolling around, and have never been to sea. So, perhaps it is some English thing, along the lines of when I realized the houses were built as ships upside down…..There is a smell to snow in the air, and hope to heavens you know it if you are out. I remember once we didn’t know, and someone pointed out the black line on the horizon. That was a storm coming in. ….Snowbound for days at some wonderfully designed chalet, par sister-in-law and ex [onetime? former? forever?] brother-in-law in the mountains: big ski lodge windows and lots of snow to look at for a few days.