Weather Underground says we’ve got more snow incoming — not much, they say — and I haven’t even got around to posting my pics of the last snow. Here goes.
Thursday morning I woke up to snow covering my skylights, two inches of snow on my deck. It was the kind of snow everybody who isn’t snowphobic loves: light, scenic, and gone by midafternoon. A marked contrast to last weekend’s heavy, crusty stuff that knocked out power, required heavy-duty plowing, and screwed people’s backs up. My back was already screwed up so I managed to get out of shoveling. (Thank you again, neighbors!) This time around, the snow was fluffy and my back was better. Shoveling was easy.
Snow makes even tire tracks look pretty. All the resident motor vehicles have all-wheel drive, so Wednesday night’s snowfall was no big deal. This is the back way out from our driveway.
Travvy and I headed off down Pine Hill on our morning walk. No Yaktrax needed: the walking was easy.
We walk this way almost every day, sometimes in one direction, sometimes in the other. It’s not an especially scenic vista, but it catches my eye again and again, no matter what the season. The trail. The snow-dusted trees. The texture of the yellow grass rising above the snow.
Cold cotton, I thought, maybe because I’m reading Isabel Wilkerson’s The Warmth of Other Suns, a stupendously good book about the “Great Migration” of black people from the South to the North and West during the twentieth century. One of the main threads follows a woman who was a sharecropper on a Mississippi cotton plantation in the 1930s. The descriptions of the back-breaking work, the heat, and the virtual servitude in which the planters kept the sharecroppers are very, very vivid.
I’ve been listening a lot lately to Eric Bibb’s Friends CD, which includes the song “Just Look Up” (Michael Jerome Browne and B. Markus). Tree, snow, clouds, sky. Yeah. Just look up.