Ok, I admit that it's one of those 'greener grass' things'. In the UK, I miss it. In Russia, I grumbled about the process of wrapping up even to dash across the courtyard to the little shop. But, there's little doubting the beauty that it can bring: from a dusting of snow to an overwhelming several feet deep; from the large flakes when thermometres are around the zero mark to the picture-perfect, fairy tale, icebound trees.
With the enduring cold, it becomes possible to have ice sculptures as a semi-permanent art installation and in Surgut, where I worked, they have a cultural park called Old Surgut, home to the annual display. These ice sculptures were always a thing of wonder - such an alien material to British eyes for artists to use, symbolic of the differences in climate and stunningly beautiful, especially when illuminated at night. The photo, above, reminds me of the simple pleasure of wandering around Old Surgut, partly generally but especially in winter and at this time of year with being able to see the buildings and trees adorned with New Year lights.
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