Tuesday afternoon and evening it snowed and snowed and snowed, but it was snow-globe snow. When Trav and I walked past the school in the dark, we heard the scraping of what sounded like a plow. There was nowhere near enough snow to plow. The only vehicle moving in the parking lot was a well-lit pickup.
The three school buses were plugged into their chargers, to ensure they’d start in the morning. (At least I think that’s what the cords are about. Maybe the buses have their own electric blankets?)
Total accumulation? About an eighth of an inch.
Not much, but enough to give my morning walk a makeover.
Malvina Forester was decked with bunting on both sides.
I like winter. Maybe I even love winter, and not just because it’s not summer. Where I live, the cold is not life-threatening if you’ve got shelter and warm clothing, both of which I do, and because I work at home I don’t have to drive anywhere if I don’t want to.
The guys building the new house nearby worked all day under overcast skies. The wind was blowing, and the temp didn’t get much above 20 degrees F (about –7 C). My fingerless gloves are good down to about 30 F. In the fleece smoker’s mitts I wear below that, it would be hard to wield a hammer. I did not envy them. (More about that house in a future post, or two or three. I’ve been taking pictures.)
The puddle at the end of the driveway has become an ice-shard mosaic with a snowy frame.
The highwayman rode down a ribbon of moonlight. Travvy and I looked down a ribbon of snow, but we went in the other direction.
Even a dusting of snow is enough to make the invisible visible. Where did this vehicle come from and what was it doing in the field? A couple of weeks ago there were goats in this part of the field; their keeper came regularly in her pickup to tend them. But the goats have moved on, though some electric fencing remains in the far pasture at Misty Meadows. There’s no obvious reason for anyone to be driving on this particular field.
The bike path, ordinarily a ribbon of asphalt, was snowy too. Clearly a couple of rabbits, a dog, and a human with smaller feet than mine had already passed this way. I love winter skies.
Twenty-four hours later . . . Well, here’s what the thermometer on the deck looked like just before the sun sidled above the horizon this morning. The sun is well up now, but the thermometer hasn’t changed much. I’m waiting for my hair to dry before Travvy and I go out.
A dusting of snow is lovely, I agree. I love how Trav looks with anticipation toward the tracks.
The path and sky photo reminds me of Judy Collins’ version of Winter Sky (and Billy Edd Wheeler’s too.) Such a haunting song, and so perfect for these kinds of days.
Oh yeah. That’s on my soundtrack. There’s something about winter in northern climes that strips life down to its essence — hard to look at in some ways, but beautiful in others.