It's sleeting. It's snowing. The old man is snuggled up warm in bed with no plans to move til morning.
It never happens here. It so never happens here that yesterday, when the imminent threat of snow and sleet dangers were announced on televisions across the area, my family actually made fun of me for the marathon laundry session (just trying to make sure I'm ahead rather than behind if we lose power). They looked concerned when I brought in extra water containers for the chickens. My thoughts were it would be much easier to take fresh water, containers and all, out rather than trying to thaw solidly frozen ones while trying to keep ourselves from freezing also. Regardless of the precipitation, it's cold.
Ok, so I'm excited. We never get snow here, and the thought of even the possibility is enough to send me into fits of frenzied delight. I love snow. It's the bonus that makes cold weather all worthwhile. And I know that our cold - just a few minor degrees below freezing - is nothing compared to the cold in some places up north, and I know that a snowfall that is not likely to last more than 48 hours before everything goes back to its normal, dead grass state is nothing compared to the literal FEET of snow that even my SIL can look out her window and see. I know all that and it is just more reason for me to be excited.
If I lived somewhere that snowfall was more common, I guess I wouldn't be as excited as I am now. I'm quite sure that I would be less than impressed by the possibility of a few inches of snow and ice. But I don't live in one of those places and therefore I am completely capable of loving snow.
Doug laughs at me becuase I wander over to the window to have a look at what is happening while we wait for the arrival of snow way more often than the kids do. I'm the one most likely to shout out a hearty WOO HOO! when I hear snow mentioned in a forecast. And I do the "Oh crap! It's gonna snow shopping trip happily. Did it yesterday, and had a wonderful time. Wish I hadn't forgot snack cakes though.
At the moment we have nothing but sleet. The ground is white, but it's far from fluffy. When I walk out on the porch the sound is entirely different from the one I crave hearing - the whisper of snowfall. The dogs don't like it. Gimli actually looked at me and said, "No way, Jose." this morning when I opened the door and offered him the outside to relieve himself in. He turned and went straight back to the leather chair to curl up again, nice and toasty warm next to the heat.
My favorite moment occurred last night just shortly after midnight. We were getting ready to go to sleep. The lights were off and I had dutifully raised the blinds in the bedroom so that we could just look out the window and see if it was snowing when we woke up during the night. Emily and Jacob stood, looking very much like Ziggy, with chins resting on the window sill, staring out into the night, eyes squinted to aid in detecting even the smallest fleck of what might be snow. The picture they made, which I will carry firmly embedded in my memory forever - I hope - was one of pure peacefulness. Where is Norman Rockwell when you need him?
Ok, so I'm excited. We never get snow here, and the thought of even the possibility is enough to send me into fits of frenzied delight. I love snow. It's the bonus that makes cold weather all worthwhile. And I know that our cold - just a few minor degrees below freezing - is nothing compared to the cold in some places up north, and I know that a snowfall that is not likely to last more than 48 hours before everything goes back to its normal, dead grass state is nothing compared to the literal FEET of snow that even my SIL can look out her window and see. I know all that and it is just more reason for me to be excited.
If I lived somewhere that snowfall was more common, I guess I wouldn't be as excited as I am now. I'm quite sure that I would be less than impressed by the possibility of a few inches of snow and ice. But I don't live in one of those places and therefore I am completely capable of loving snow.
Doug laughs at me becuase I wander over to the window to have a look at what is happening while we wait for the arrival of snow way more often than the kids do. I'm the one most likely to shout out a hearty WOO HOO! when I hear snow mentioned in a forecast. And I do the "Oh crap! It's gonna snow shopping trip happily. Did it yesterday, and had a wonderful time. Wish I hadn't forgot snack cakes though.
At the moment we have nothing but sleet. The ground is white, but it's far from fluffy. When I walk out on the porch the sound is entirely different from the one I crave hearing - the whisper of snowfall. The dogs don't like it. Gimli actually looked at me and said, "No way, Jose." this morning when I opened the door and offered him the outside to relieve himself in. He turned and went straight back to the leather chair to curl up again, nice and toasty warm next to the heat.
My favorite moment occurred last night just shortly after midnight. We were getting ready to go to sleep. The lights were off and I had dutifully raised the blinds in the bedroom so that we could just look out the window and see if it was snowing when we woke up during the night. Emily and Jacob stood, looking very much like Ziggy, with chins resting on the window sill, staring out into the night, eyes squinted to aid in detecting even the smallest fleck of what might be snow. The picture they made, which I will carry firmly embedded in my memory forever - I hope - was one of pure peacefulness. Where is Norman Rockwell when you need him?
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