Snow Day

          We woke to our first real snow of the year this morning.

          I was excited.

          I love the snow.

          Now mind you, I don't like to be cold, but I do love the snow.

          I took a picture from my kitchen window, but the camera never picks up the beautiful morning sky.

       I knew it wouldn't and yet I tried anyway. I am nothing if not eternally optimistic. I knew I'd have to go outside for a sky photo. I braved the cold morning air, stepping out without a jacket, and got this picture for you— and as long as I was out there, I picked up the empty cat food dish and frozen water bowl.

          I scooped out dry cat and dog food onto their respective dishes and let them sit on the counter to soak up the hot water I'd poured over them. In the meantime, I made a bowl of cereal for Mike and another cup of coffee for myself.

          Ten minutes later, or there abouts, I mixed canned food with the stuff that had been soaking and got all of the critters fed.

          Then I fed myself.

          It was still a little dark when I put booties and a sweater on Ginger and went out to take pictures. If the light isn't bright enough I'll sometimes get funky colors in my pictures. Sometimes I care, most of the time I don't. I just think it adds to the picture. 

          Ginger tickled me as she ran through the snow, plowing it up with her nose. At one point I thought for sure she was going to roll in it, but I called her name and she stopped to look at me.

          "You're a funny girl," I told her, then took a picture of the dried Goldenrod covered in the freshly fallen snow.

          We hadn't gone much further, Ginger and I, before I got the idea that she'd had enough.

          "How could you tell?" you ask.

          Ginger normally walks out ahead of me but after her initial forays into the cold white stuff, she followed behind me, dragged really, staying in my tracks. When I turned around to see what was going on, she had her head down and just plain looked unhappy.

          "You wanna go home?" I asked.

          Ginger knew what I'd asked her. Her ears perked right up, she turned around in my tracks, and followed the path right back to the house. The other tracks in the picture are from Smudge. He was following me this morning.

          I dropped her off and went back out on my own — with Smudge.

          Pine needles.

          And another winter flower.

          It's quiet, after a snowfall. All the world is still and I listen to the snow crunching under my feet as I make my way to the pond.

          I have one Cattail in my pond. Just one. I don't know what happened to the rest of them, they're gone. Just.... gone.

          Another pine tree branch.

          Leaves hold a lot of snow.

   

         Queen Ann's Lace. On this part of the path it's still a little too dark for picture making.

          I walk on.

      Now I'm at the part of the path that's close to the neighbor's driveway. I bet the red of the Winterberries are pretty against the white snow, I think and cross over with a little help from the deer path.

          I took thirty-one pictures of the Winterberries and I've got it narrowed down to three — but which one do I show them? I wonder.

          I can't decide.

          My fingers were starting to get cold. I pulled them from the fingers of my glove and balled them into my palm hoping the warmth from the rest of my hand will warm them up a little. My toes were cold too, despite having my winter boots on, but there was no help for that. As I turn to leave I decide to take a picture of the lane going to the hunter's cabin, and that means putting my already cold fingers back into the now cold finger holes of my glove. What a pain. I decided to just put up with cold fingers rather than go through that every time I wanted to take a picture.

          Smudge followed me back along the deer path and soon enough we were back on our own path again.

           The next stop: Bittersweet. 

         I don't have as much trouble picking out just one Bittersweet picture to show you. I like the added decoration of the pine needles in this shot. Besides, I only had ten pictures to choose from...

          "Why just ten, Peg? That doesn't sound like you at all," you say.

          I know, right!

          I was standing there, in front of the Bittersweet, taking a picture here and a picture there, taking a step this way and that, looking to see if the new angle would improve my shots any, when I heard something...

          I must have heard something because I look up and I see this great cloud of fog rolling in on me. I raise my camera and started firing off shots as it gets closer....

and closer.

          Then it was on me and it wasn't fog at all, it was snow! A snow cloud! And I was being pelted — and so was my camera. I turn around to protect my camera and snap a picture as the snow fog sweeps over me — and Smudge. Here he comes up the path behind me.

  

          I waited as he caught up to me and I see he's covered in the fallout. "I bet I look like you do," I told him. He lifted his head when I spoke to him.

          Right beside the Bittersweet, just a little higher on the hill, is the Virgin's Bower covered in a blanket of snow.

          I didn't spend much time here and as I turn to go, I see Smudge, sitting patiently, waiting for me.

          I am happy.

          I'm cold,

          But I'm happy.

          I. Am. Happy.

          A song pops into my head. Winter Wonderland. And I start singing in my off key, can't carry a tune in a bucket, someone stepped on the cat's tail, kind of screechy voice, but I don't care. I sing anyway. I don't know the words to Winter Wonderland, but I know the tune, so I make up my own words.

          Dear God, ♪

          ♫ Are You listening...

          That's it. That's all you get because I can't remember anymore of the words I made up. I wish I could because the words of praise and adoration I sang for our Lord worked so well with the tune that it was truly inspired. I guess it was meant to be just for God because as soon as I sang the words they were gone, snatched by the wind and carried on high.

          Up to the upper barn my path takes me. The sun breaks through the clouds and the snow, still falling through the air, sparkles in the sunbeams.

          Sparkles!

          Who doesn't love sparkles!

          I tried my best to get a picture of them for you but this is the best I got.

          Up at the upper barn, I'm looking for things to take pictures of and as I stop to survey the landscape I see Smudge has stopped too. Once again he's waiting for me.

          Around the corner of the barn I go and the dark sky is dramatic against the backdrop of the sun shining on the barn and trees.

          The Bergamot is my next stop and I see they are all wearing white caps.

          

           I turn to go and Smudge is sitting at me feet. I laugh when I see that he's wearing a white cap too!

          At the sound of my laughter Smudge looks up at me.

          There's more Queen Ann's Lace along my path here but I've got my sights set on the Milkweed pods that I know are coming up.

          More dried Goldenrod, bent over with the weight of the snow.

          There're only a few pods here and even though I like this photo well enough to show it to you, I'm always in search of that one photo.
          "Which one?" you ask.

          The one that makes you go, "Wow."

  

          I'm back down to the mill now. Even the junk pile looks pretty in the snow, I think. And the sky is still dark.

          I reach the end of the path and turn toward all that dark sky. In the summer you can see my wild girls hanging out on this side of the mill. Now they're all inside the cat room. Inside like I should be. But instead of going in I head down the back driveway. I know there are more Milkweed pods down that way.

          I take another picture of our junk pile.

          At the end of our back driveway I spot the mailbox. Maybe I'll see if the mail's here yet, I think. I didn't really think it would be but I knew there was another tree of Winterberries down alongside the road, so it was just one more excuse to go that way.

          I turn around and look back the way I'd come. The NO TRESSPASSING sign obscured by snow.

          Down our snowy Robinson Road is Daddy's Old Machine Shed and the Robinson's barn. A pretty picture in any kind of weather.

          There wasn't any mail yet but I snapped a picture of the pine branches blanketed in snow and the Winterberries in the background.

          Back up into the yard and I find the dried Milkweed pods that I knew where there.

          Still no "Wow" picture. The search continues.

          A final look at my junk pile dressed in snow and I head inside to thaw out.

          I step over the two-foot high fence and go in the kitchen door.

          "Did you see the fog roll in when you were out there," Mike asked as I took my jacket off. He'd seen it on the security monitor.

          "It was snow!" I told him. "A snow fog!"

          And with that, let's call this one done!