While I think last weekend’s winter storm didn’t pack quite the wallop forecaster’s feared, it did cover us up in quite a bit of snow. Which is lovely and terribly inconvenient if you want or need to go anywhere.
Thankfully, we haven’t had a pressing need to drive anywhere, but once the sun came out we were itching to at least get out and walk around a bit. Especially Thistle!
On the one hand, this snow is quite the disruption to my regular schedule. On the other hand, it’s a delightful respite, forcing me to just sit back and take in all that glittering whiteness.
And then go plowing through it!
Thistle ran and jumped and played. I made a snow angel. My husband demonstrated his snowball throwing accuracy. And I thought back to those wonderful childhood days when snow meant one thing–sledding!
Walking home at dusk,
dragging the runner sled slow,
we look back and see the wonder
of snow-broken field criss-crossed
with track of sled and dog and child.
Here is evidence of a winter’s day—
setting sun catching in a far trail
curving down the hillside—
a sudden glint of ice brighter than
diamonds or stars or tears.
Before us a single track leads home,
left much earlier, in another light,
when the sun stood high
and a pure hill of unbroken white
sparkled with promise.