Snow In this passage, the writer remembers the experience of an unusually heavy snowfall. The
snow had started the day before. The sun was bright in a clear sky and it snowed! Each flake
caught the sun. Sparkles swam in the air, carried by the wind. People passing on Cottage Street
looked up into the clear air to let the cold colours hit them in the eye, or on their glasses. They
smiled, admiring their shadows, as they walked in the sunny, sunny snowstorm falling around
them. A genuine curiosity, Grandpa called it.
Soon, though, the sky turned grey and the snow continued into the dark. This was more like it.
The falling snow stopped the litter that blew and rolled down the streets and pinned it to the
ground. Everything, the litter, fire hydrants, the bins that stood at street corners and in house
yards, was transformed into mysterious white lumps.
It snowed all through supper and after. It snowed through the radio and Grandpa’s reading. It
snowed even harder when I went to bed. All night, I’d wake and go to the window to wish for
more; I pressed my face against the cold glass to peer at the sky above the roof. I wanted there
to be more snow to come. And there was. The sky was black but the air was lit by the streetlight
at the end of the alley. Flakes of white day fell through the night and brushed against the glass. I
thought the wet chill would crack my cheek when I smiled.
In the morning the world was new. Yesterday’s lumps were now smooth and the spaces
between them were even and white. In the yard, the snow had rolled in on waves of wind from
over the far fence and dropped quietly and deeply. It filled the space from the back of the house
to the alley, then buried the fence and the alley. Then it buried Aunt and Uncle Erby’s fence
across the way; then it buried their yard, too. Then everything was all the same.
The wind blew hard enough to make the electricity pole at the corner of the street sway. The
wires cracked and shattered, their icy silver loads that had been building through the storm,
trembling. Grandpa looked up and down the alley. He shook his head, grimacing.
‘We’d best stay in,’ he said. ‘All of us. Falling wires,’ he said.
‘Electrocution,’ he said. Grandma looked into the cupboards and shook her head. ‘Food’ll never
last,’ she said. When the wind howled, the snow rose alive, spinning and swirling, and the world
went white. So big a thing as Mount Amos disappeared. So too, did Aunt and Uncle Erby’s
house across the alley. Our yard began, now, at the back door and went on forever, around
other houses and on forever. The world was just our place, just our house and the smoothly
shaped mounds of snow stretching forever. A few black lines crossed above, or rose from it. A
pole down the way had fallen across the path. Dead black vines were hanging in tatters from the
back fence. Then nothing. The end of the world. Our place only; we could only wait.
It is two weeks later and the snow has finally gone. Write a letter to your sister who lives in another part of the country, telling her about all that has happened. In your letter you should cover the following points: • what happened during the first few days of the snowstorm • how the people in your household and the neighbours reacted to the snow • the problems caused by the snow and how you and your family coped with them. Base your letter on what you have read in Passage A, but do not copy from it. Be careful to use your own words. Address each of the three bullet points. Begin your letter, ‘My dearest ... ’ Write about 200 to 300 words. Up to 10 marks are available for the content of your answer, and up to 5 marks for the quality of your writing
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