We got a foot of snow yesterday. Today is the first day of spring. It's OK. I like snow. I like winter. I like to close the door and open the blinds and watch the white swirls, listen for the snow plow, and relax in a cocoon of white crystals.
Can't drive anywhere. It's peaceful, muffled, quiet. I bundle up to go out: pretty scarf, hand-knit hat from a friend, pink coat, and boots. I wade out through the soft white crystals, out to the shovel and scoop. I have to go out every few hours to shovel in front of my door, otherwise the snow will pile up and make it hard to get out. I don't want to get trapped. I shovel off my doorstep and deck. I scoop the driveway.
It's 100 degrees where friend Arvind lives, in Ahmadabad India. It's 85 in Phoenix where my brother lives; 60 in Beijing where my sister lives, 20 in Minneapolis where she used to live, and 20 in Erie where my son lives.
Today was sunny and 40. A gorgeous Maine winter day. Oh, right. It's spring. Daffodil shoots are there, under the fresh snow. Spring will come. For now, we have a winter wonderland of fluffy white ice crystals.
Can't drive anywhere. It's peaceful, muffled, quiet. I bundle up to go out: pretty scarf, hand-knit hat from a friend, pink coat, and boots. I wade out through the soft white crystals, out to the shovel and scoop. I have to go out every few hours to shovel in front of my door, otherwise the snow will pile up and make it hard to get out. I don't want to get trapped. I shovel off my doorstep and deck. I scoop the driveway.
It's 100 degrees where friend Arvind lives, in Ahmadabad India. It's 85 in Phoenix where my brother lives; 60 in Beijing where my sister lives, 20 in Minneapolis where she used to live, and 20 in Erie where my son lives.
Today was sunny and 40. A gorgeous Maine winter day. Oh, right. It's spring. Daffodil shoots are there, under the fresh snow. Spring will come. For now, we have a winter wonderland of fluffy white ice crystals.
