I love snow. Seriously. It’s beautiful while it’s falling. I like the cold and know how to dress for it. I like the gray and the way snow shows how powerless we are against mother nature. Last week, I went snowshoeing twice, right on my street and local environs. I’m an outdoor kind of girl, you know? I was even (relatively) cheerful when my son’s flight was cancelled because of last week’s blizzard, and I made do with not being able to drive my (small) car in all sorts of resourceful ways.
There were still 3 foot drifts in front of my house at 10 am yesterday, when it began to snow again. When the airports started cancelling flights. Again. When the wind began to howl and drive the snow sideways. Again. The shot above is from about a mile away from my house and that’s a day ago. Last week, I got my car out the Tuesday before Christmas, and didn’t drive it until a week later. Once, to the grocery store (thank goodness), and to run at the YMCA, since to run on the street is to kill yourself.
We have everything we need. The cable and internet are still on this week. Ian got out ahead of the storm and is safely back in NYC. We’re safe and warm and dry. We have snow to shovel if we feel like exercise. I even wrote pages this morning–9 of them.
But I’m getting a little stir crazy. This is the longest stretch of bad weather we’ve had in years. What’s it like in your neighborhood?