A couple of days ago, we had our first "real" snow storm of the winter. The last one was in November. Yep, November.
I have spent the last few days watching the sky go from crystal blue to gray, anticipating the falling treasure. Then, on Wednesday night, it came. For 16 hours, snow fell from the sky covering up the ice and dirt. Frozen ruts were erased beneath a foot of powder and the landscape was transformed.
It feels incredibly good to trudge through the powder, taking my shovel and pushing it out of the way. There is satisfaction in watching my dog Chuck dive head first into short piles, using his nose to sniff out the burrowing mice and bits of buried treasure, only to come up with icy whiskers. I enjoy seeing skiers on the trails and hearing the dull roar of snow machines. The rumble of the town plow is a sound I have missed.
It's been a long "not winter" in Vermont this year and although I had about given up hope of long nordic skis, sledding parties and snowy runs on the back roads as spring inevitably creeps toward us, it looks like winter has finally arrived...at least for a few days...and I'll look forward to the challenge of trying to fit in my favorite winter fun as quickly as I can.
First up, shoveling my drive.
|Standing on a pile of LAST winter's snow.|