Snow Confessions.

I remember liking snow when I was a kid. I remember being excited to go out and build snowmen and forts and all sorts of things. I remember walking out into my clean white yard that had no marks at all except my footprints and imagining it was like a big sheet of paper and that some giant high in the sky was watching to see what creation I graced this lovely new gift with. It was fun and exciting.

Somewhere along the way I came up with a realization. Snow is cold and wet. When you play in it, you get cold and wet. Your boots get filled with snow. Your feet turn into toesicles. Your mittens get coated in snow and your hands get get stiff, cold and wet. And it is slippery. You fall and bruise your bottom, or your legs get sore from trudging through all that white, cold, heavy, junk that mascerades as white, fluffy, cotton candy.

Now that we have established my not-so-fond feelings for snow, I have a confession . . . I likr to watch it through my window here in my cabin in the woods. There is something lovely about sitting there with a nice warm cup of coffee in my warm living room, looking through one of the three large windows, watching the snow fall gently and come to rest on the evergreen trees that surround my home. It is nice to do the dishes and look out the window over the sink and see the Christmas-like scene that greets me. As long as I don't have to go out in it, I can imagine it feels as lovely as it looks. I can imagine I am sipping hot chocolate in front of a nice fireplace, toasting marshmallows. It makes me smile, it makes me forget what a horror show snow really is.

I would show you pics, but my camera cord is still lost. And one of my five lovely neighbours just came by and cleared our driveway with his little ride snow blower! We didn't ask him too, he just did it and left. I love it here.