I got to frolic in the snow today. Eight inches, they said. At some places in the yard, it had drifted higher than my knees. That means it was almost to Moo’s waist, and it stopped her in her tracks. She’d fall face first and I’d roll her over to pull her up. We loved every minute of it.
As Moo schlepped through the drifts, I asked her, “So, are you a Southern girl or a Northern Girl?”
“A Northern Girl!” she shouted.
My dog, born and raised in the South, takes no offense to the snow. I think she’s particularly adorable when she licks and bites the snow. I also think it’s darling when she digs for the moles I cannot see with my human eyes, nor hear with my human ears.
On Sassy’s sled, I slid down the hump of the back yard. I don’t know when I’d last gone sledding, but it had to have been in high school. It’s still fun — the whoosh of air, snow crinkling smoothly beneath me, til I collapse on the bottom in a heap of carefree slack. As I slid to the bottom, I let my head fall back into the snow, limp with satisfaction. It filled me with delicious childhood nostalgia, wherein for just those few seconds at the end, I could have been nine. My smile could not be suppressed. Time after time, I was taken back to my youth.
I tried to make a snow angel, but sadly, in the drift, it didn’t resemble an angel at all. I had formed a snow table between my thighs and two cantilevers above my shoulders. I was disappointed when I stood up, and I questioned, “Is this art?” It probably wasn’t, but I still relished it.
I shoveled some. I found I still take pleasure in shoveling, although not as much at the end of the drive where the rocky bits had been displaced by the plow. The Mister fancied using the snowblower — so much, he also did three neighbors’ houses and the sidewalks between.
The snow was good for snowballs, but it wasn’t dense and wet enough to build a snowman. This may be the last big snow until late Fall, and I remain eager to build a snowman with my girls. *sigh* I may have to endure a summer before the opportunity comes.
Family and friends tell me that I must’ve willed this snow storm into fruition. I may have. I certainly wanted it badly enough.