Madness, Mukluks, and Mortality

and snow.

I don't get much done Tuesday nights. That is, not of my list of to-do's. That's because Tuesday nights my family gets together in the living room (overflowing somewhat into the dining room) to share, in turn, what we've been reading/learning from the Bible. It's one of the more structured activities that happens in my family.

This evening as we took our turns, the sleet outside turned to snow, quickly piling up. I heard the music of snowy winds raising voice. And eventually the muffled thumping, scraping of a snowplow. And I thought, Later tonight, I am going to bundle up, and go walking in the snowfall. Even if nobody will come with. I briefly fantasized about

tromping up the street,

making the first tracks,

snow falling in my face.

At some point, it doesn't matter how well you're bundled up:

it's not enough to just be a

muffled tourist of the first snowfall. It's not THAT cold.

So you sit down or lie down in it.

You sink into the

magic that is made of

a billion tiny ice crystals.

It's not that cold. It's quiet.

Your thoughts don't even echo,

so they stop running around so fast.

Why, it would be easy to fall asleep out here, in the snow, snow still falling, world so quiet.

Can I gather up a blanket of it to carry back with me?

I am going to buy some real boots this year. So there's no boot-question keeping me from actually tromping out in the snow to eat it up.

....Well....

After family time, I came upstairs to my room. Before I had a chance to check out the snowfall accumulation (I'd love to have a minor snow emergency; we rarely get them here...) I heard something else on the skylight. Rain. A wonderful pitter-pat that did not sound so wonderful.

With a wail I ran to the window. Indeed, that 1-2 inch blanket of snow that had piled up in minutes was now on its way back to the river.

I ran downstairs to take a better look out the front door, mourning the whole way. On the porch, I thought, Maybe It Is Freezing Rain. Reaching over the railing, I trailed a frond of dripping shrubbery across my palm. It did not feel very frozen.

Stomping my feet on the mat when I walked back in, my dad said, "Hey Hannah." "What?" "On the upside, if it thaws, I can install the new storm door I just bought for the kitchen."

Knowing how old that kitchen door is, it would be a sad thing to have bought the storm door and then never actually install it til Spring.

"Okay."

"I mean, maybe it helps to think of it that way."

"Yeah, it helps... that does it for me!"

And thus I am content to wait a little longer for that dreamy blanket of snow, although who knows what will happen with this storm by morning. (We're on the edge of it).