Inspired by Salamander's landscapes in the post below, I thought to take a few pictures closer up, to show the fragile beauty of snow in miniature.

A blog by Brits in Cesky Krumlov, South Bohemia, a UNESCO-listed jewel of a town in the Czech Republic. We love the place and we intend to share with you our experiences and our enthusiasm about the place, the people and the beautiful countryside.
One of the reasons why I love living here is the utter peace one experiences whenever getting out of town - you don't need to go far to find vast swathes of nature where you won't meet a soul, indeed where you won't see a house or any other overt signs of human habitation.
And when the bright Winter sun gets low and begins to set, it offers spectacular beauty that reminds of old religious paintings - you kind of expect an angel or two to descend, instead of the white trails of the high-flying passing aeroplanes.
And then, being Winter, there is Silence: the snow buffers any sound, and the windless stillness adds to the magic of it all.
We were comparing notes with fellow Brits the other day about Winter driving - the way everything seems to come to a stop in Britain the moment any amount of snow falls,
while here, as on most of the Continent, people just carry on, quite happily:
so I thought I'd take a few pics when on the way to the Lake house a couple of days ago (click to enlarge as usual, if you like).
they get just ploughed through now and then, and gritted - a bit. The smallest roads, however, are there for the users to just get along the best they can.
Of course everyone here drives on Winter tyres; the Czechs do a twice-yearly tyre-changing ritual. But it is all quite safe, and fun - unless you are a maniac driver.
They tend to be the ones that pay with their life, alas.

When you need to literally carve your way to the door, that's what I call a snowfall. And having a house in a remote location means not only an adrenalin-pumping drive along practically non-existent, white-on-white, deep and icy roads, but also having to fight your way towards the house itself :-) But it needs to be done: one needs to check whether pipes have not frozen inside, and whether there isn't too much snow on the roof - else you might come back when the days are warmer only to find plumbing disaster and collapsed eves.
So, yes, we did find over a meter of snow in places on the barn roof (the shovel in the picture is 60cm wide) and it meant having to climb up and shovel it off. It turned out to be a lovely exercise, and we enjoyed the feeling of a job done as much as the cup of tea by the open fire inside afterwards. And - thanks to our having left our heating to temper the interior, no plumbing disaster.

When you feel like a walk in the middle of Winter, you'd have a hard time going unless you put on a pair of walking skis. There are two ways to enjoy this pastime: one, when you take yourself on the many kilometres of prepared cross-country, or 'langlauf' walkways,
kept by the municipality and well signed.
Two - and this is what I prefer - is to go into uncharted territory and make your own marks. There is nothing like the feel of the snow squashing under the narrow ski. Of course you don't cover as much ground as you would on a made-up langlauf highway, but, especially when going quite alone and being quiet you meet animals: hares, rabbits, deer.... I even saw a fox as I was coming back the other afternoon close to dusk.
When Lake Lipno freezes over, as it does every Winter (and it freezes so deep that people even drive cars, even lorries, over - as ferries obviously don't operate at Winter time) it is time for families to go skating, a must for most people here. When much snow has fallen, the Lipno resort obliges by keeping a clear path over the ice - 11km long - so you can skate to your heart's content and it never gets crowded like normal municipal outdoor ice-rinks tend to at this time. They also keep a path for people on walking-skis - 'langlauf' being another activity beloved by Czechs of all ages and shapes. But that maybe is a subject for some other blog.
In the evening, tired and full of endorphins from the sun and the exhillaration of skating, you get an added bonus of the famously spectacular sunsets over the lake. What more can one ask of a piece of Nature?
In the previous blog
I waxed lyrical about snow in the countryside, but Krumlov is also transformed when covered in its white duvet. So, just so it doesn't get left out :-) here are a few pictures, the one here on the right is looking out from the Riverside house's garden.




I know my co-expat Potok has also been blogging about this phenomenon, and so did I a year ago, but one can't help it: when the frost covers the trees and frost-on-frost snows come, it is what we've come to call 'a diamond time'.
In very cold temperatures an extra layer of frost forms each night and as this country knows very little wind, the masses of crystals stay undisturbed, just grow in thickness and beauty - even on the snow that lies on the ground. So when the sun hits the landscape, it sparkles like millions of diamonds. Unfortunately it is impossible to photograph in its full glory, but here's at least a pale representation of it. So while downhill skiers enjoy the exhilaration of powder snow everywhere, a great alternative is to put on walking skis and slide quietly into the stillness of the forest, and then stop, and wait: Not a sound is heard, and nothing moves save for the occasional drop of snow from an over-heavy branch, sending showers of sparkly flakes through the blindingly bright rays of the sun, and one is in the presence of something eternal, timeless - just sheer, gloriously pristine beauty, a gift beyond imagining.
The family are here again - so I am again indulging in giving the children the opportunities that our little Southern Bohemian paradise offers. So little Anna and I (and a couple more Krumlov Brits), led by Sarka from Stable Pohoda,
went for a fabulous late-afternoon horse ride in the snowy landscape, a great excitement for Anna as we didn't get home till the dark, the horses picking their way through the deep snow underfoot. Moments to stick in the child's memory - the sharp frosty air, the glistening snow in the pinkish sunset, the showers of powdery snow from branches overhead when riding among trees. And the total silence save for the soft crunch of the horses' hooves.

I haven't been blogging for a while (will fill you in on what's been going on, soon) but for now I'd love to share with you a beautiful, if a bit intrepid, day trip in the snow.
The weather wasn't all that good, bit of snowfall among the bits of sunshine - but hey, who minds.
Starting in Krumlov at dawn, we rode 60 kms (that's the distance by road, I don't know how many overland, but quite enough!), getting soaked through,
then spending a wonderful warm lunch at a pub, with garlic soup, and tea with rum. Dry again,
we rode back through
woods and over fields. What a balm for the soul. Come and join us sometime! :-)