I went on a long detour to get the croissants this morning. It is often said that Montmartre is like a village. Today it really felt one. People were walking in the middle of the streets as they were less treacherous than the pavements. Occasionally a car passed, but it was moving so slowly you could barely hear it. I mainly heard the crump crump of my boots in the snow.
Oddly, The park up on Avenue Junot was open (usually all public playgrounds are closed as soon as it snows). St Denis was looking even more forlorn than usual.
Here is the Place de Tertre. It was hard to take a photo that didn't have a gazillion people taking a photo in it.
The artists were not doing a lot of painting.

I've always loved this 'atelier' on rue Orchampt.

The flowers in the window boxes are valiantly struggling to survive against all odds.

Coming down these stairs was quite treacherous. Looking up them was quite magical.

The snow covered domes of the Sacré Coeur were camouflaged against the white sky.


I've always loved this 'atelier' on rue Orchampt.
The flowers in the window boxes are valiantly struggling to survive against all odds.
Coming down these stairs was quite treacherous. Looking up them was quite magical.
The snow covered domes of the Sacré Coeur were camouflaged against the white sky.
And here is a brave boatman rowing through the icy waters of Montmartre.
