Where are my Boots?
On my feet I glibly replied to my husband.
I continued to clean off the
car and push snow down the
driveway. Lifting is no longer
an option. Predictions for
this storm were twenty to
thirty inches of snow in our
area. We are shrouded in white.
I measured under twenty inches.
For us, spring is simply a
calendar date. Others around
the world boast of the flowers
in bloom. Last glimpse of our
daffodils, they were about four inches
above ground. When this melts,
I’ll note their progress. The sun
is intense today. The snow is rapidly
melting like in Colorado after snow storms.
Determined to stay ahead of the
amount of snow I had to clean off
the car and down the driveway,
I donned boots, gloves and coat
hood to brave single digit temperatures
and winds whipping at my face. Good
thing I only stayed outdoors for about
ten minutes each time. Though retired, I
still watch school closings, recalling when I
relished those presents called snow
days. Over the course of thirty something
years in Upstate New York, my husband
never had a snow day until this week.
I received a phone call announcing the County
was closing. The State government too.
My husband was pleasantly surprised.
Stores closed early – a snow day for all.
My children charged me with the task
of taking photos of our snow to display
in this week’s blog. My husband’s boots
are too large but come up higher allowing
me to take the photos. The yard is
too pretty to put footprints in the snow
so I leave it to enjoy from the inside out.
It has occurred to me that I might be
able to build a snowman. Maybe.
Happy St. Patrick’s Day!