It started out as a gentle fall that ­covered the fields, walls and roofs of our Highland village with a beautiful dusting of snow.

But the picture-postcard setting soon lost its lustre as the falling flakes became relentless, ­turning a sense of wonder into a feeling of almost suffocation.

My family and I live in the heart of the Aberdeenshire countryside and the past week has, by turn, seen joy and frustration as we tried to live a ­normal life while blanketed in three feet of the white stuff.

There have been fun moments playing in the snow with my two daughters, sledging and enjoying the camaraderie and great community spirit that comes when times get tough.

But as the snow never stopped, the frustration started to kick in at the same time as the sense of being trapped.

Local tractor drivers have been legends at keeping roads and paths open, making their voluntary rounds at the crack of dawn every morning and well into the evening.

The high mounds of snow dumped by the diggers around the village have even made for the perfect man-made slopes for local youngsters to enjoy sledging down.

Thankfully, we are lucky enough not to have been stuck in our home like so many of our neighbours living down remote tracks. Not that I have been brave enough to venture out in the worst of the conditions.

Mail writer Claire Elliot and her daughters Hannah, 15, and Sophie, 11, playing in the snow at Huntly, Aberdeenshire 

Villagers used shovels and wheelbarrows in an attempt to clear roads and pavements of snow before the next storm hit in Huntly, Aberdeenshire

Residents in communities hit hardest by the cold snap walked on main roads as pavements were covered in snow

In fact, after pulling on the wellies and piling on extra layers, the farthest I have been in the past few days is the short but knee-deep trudge to the log shed to make sure the fire is stoked, or over the wall to a back field for a fun snowball fight with the family or to go sledging.

By day four of the heavy Arctic blast, however, even the sledging tracks in the Huntly area were looking more like a toboggan run. Just trying to get up out of the extremely deep snow at the bottom of the hill was a challenge.

Today marks the fifth day off school for my two daughters and with no signs of a thaw that’s meant even their enthusiasm and wide-eyed ­wonder is now beginning to wane a little.

As the snow stays put, some gates have become almost covered and if I had to hazard a guess I’d say close to three feet has fallen, not including the drifts.

Even a walk around the braes before work feels like an exhausting gym workout with snow in most parts up to my knees.

I had to do a double-take walking past the sheep in one field as it looked like they were gliding through the snow with no legs.

It was only on proper inspection I realised they too were struggling in the depths. But the farmer quickly put that right, clearing several routes around the field for them to manoeuvre.