We've had 40 degree temperatures so the snow has been lowering itself. The four foot drifts on the front deck now look to be about three feet.
A two inch or more rain is going to do a number of what is left.
I did stop, on the little bridge and have my coffee, the other morning. I love to listen to the sound of the water rushing over the rocks. The stream was mostly open, a beautiful peaceful spot.
I was out driving around early morning because the light was gorgeous and there was a snow fog drifting around.
Look at that color of the sky? Isn't it beautiful against all that white?
I'm not bothered by the snow yet. I haven't gotten up to let Murphy out and swore about it looking like the d#$% tundra. Maybe knowing that it's going to rain and most of this will disappear is helping me enjoy it more?
I'm off to the gym, then the dentist. I would like to think that I would rather make a snow person but the reality is I like to look at the snow but not be out in it.
I don't think I was ever a cold weather person. I remember when I was invited to go skiing, in college.
My mother sent me money to buy the right clothing.
I told her that it was a one time thing and that I probably wouldn't be wearing them again. She countered with, "Well, you might meet a nice young man and get married and then you would go skiing again so buy them."
My mother's aim was to get me married. I had a nice tennis outfit that she bought me and a nice racket. She neglected to finance tennis lessons so other than just looking good next to a court it was useless.
I looked good at the ski hill. I rode the seat thingy up to the top, watched my friends ski down and thought, what's the worse that could happen.
Not knowing a thing about skiing I didn't know how to stop and I plowed through the line of people waiting for the tow rope.
My mother suggested, later when I told her the story that perhaps I should have just worn my new ski clothes inside the resort, you know standing in front of the fireplace, sorta just an advertisement for skiing.
I went sledding with Zeus the first winter I was in Boston. I fell down the mountainside before I could actually get on the sled. Apparently, I think I broke my tailbone because I could hardly sit for weeks and weeks.
We lived a "nine iron" from the lake, at our old house.
Every winter when the lake froze we would clear an area of snow, on the lake and ice skate. I found women's figure skates made my ankles hurt. Someone suggested ice hockey skates. When silver prices zoomed upwards, I gathered all my useless silver wedding objects and trotted off to the jewelry store where they gave me cash for them. I then made my way to the sports store and bought myself a pair a used men's ice hockey skates.
That Thanksgiving, the lake froze early and it was BLACK ICE. So, clear you could see the bottom of the lake. Not a bump or freckle or bit of snow.
I strapped on those ice hockey skates and skated the whole day. I skated until the sunset appeared. I'm not sure I ever really skated again after that. Conditions were never as perfect. I certainly didn't know how to do anything fancy on my skates but I loved the feeling of flying across the ice. Of looking back on the ice and seeing my marks across the surface.
One of the boys grew into my skates and made them his as he played hockey on the ice.
I had my moment.
"The greater the emphasis upon perfection the further it recedes."
Haridas Chaudhuri, Mastering the Problems of Living