Just a quick update here while we still have power. This is not a wet snow, nor does it look like it’s going to reach anything like the depths of the December storm, but you never know and we are prepared.
Just for fun, I thought I would have an episode of back pain just now, so it’s the wife who’s doing the work this morning, tending the chickens at the moment. I can see through the window above my desk that the dog has found the scent of a mole and only his back half is visible above the snow, dark soil flying out behind him. He becomes invigorated with the cold weather; what with him wearing that heavy tan sweater year-round, now the weather suits his clothes. Watching him enjoy the snow reminds us of how much fun it was to watch the kids with their sleds and snow forts long ago. He wears his wet mittens inside.
I have to confess that there is still something magical about an overnight snowstorm. To have the landscape so quickly and utterly altered in a matter of a few hours still shocks, seeing suddenly the same landscape as utterly alien. A blanket of snow changes everything, obliterating some, accentuating other shapes and forms against the pure white background. A dense ground fog is a close relative, giving the eye not much more than the hand can reach out and touch.
So, will shoveling snow make or break? It will have to be done, soon, before the soft powder turns to white cement on the cars. I think I’ll be much better by afternoon (he said, hopefully.) The tiny ice pellets that built up the first five inches of white that we awoke to has given way to softer flakes falling in pure verticals. We can see the base of the tree line faintly at the edge of the farthest pasture, treetops only imagined, obscured in snow-fog.
We have no place to go and no way to get there, plenty of firewood, chili simmering on the stove, and the world within our grasp. Life is good.