Our neighborhood is sprinkled with a dusting of snow, reminding me of the pancakes I had as a child, covered so artfully with butter and powdered sugar. The Christmas lights still remaining on the bushes twinkle through the coating of snow sticking to their branches. It is a winter wonderland, where the imperfections of our world are softenend with the collection of flakes clinging to trees and trashcans alike. There are two times a year I feel the desire to photograph our home, and this is one of them. The other will come later, sometime during mid-summer when the yard, flowers, and garden are at their peek.
Today, though, it is all about old man winter. I am thankful the white washing we received was in the form of snow squalls and light snow, for we have had our share of nor'easters and blizzards here along the coast. In the past few years I have taken over the brunt of the shoveling, as my husband deals with chronic shoulder pain from years of athletics. I find I thoroughly enjoy shoveling, no matter which form the white stuff takes. It is exhilarating, and in my mind I am transported many years back, thrilling to the snow as a child. These days I stop short of falling backwards into fresh snow to sculpt a snow angel with waving arms and legs. ( I never did figure out how to get up and walk away without ruining the beautiful angel I had created).
It has also been one of those days I have taken the time to remember how thankful I am for the small things. Snow on the ground, the ability to shovel it, and a warm house and hot tea when I come in! Before my mom entered the nursing home, snow meant worrying whether she had been dug out, or making a quick (?) 3 hour round-trip trek to do it myself. I am so very thankful to know she is now safe and warm and cared for, no matter the weather.
The flakes, large enough to capture individually in a picture, are still floating to the ground as night is falling. Can you make a wish on a falling snowflake? I just did.
A warm country hug to all,