I don’t want to shock anyone, but it’s snowing. Not a blizzard. No high winds or blinding whiteout. Just a regular, old-fashioned snow, falling gently from a sky almost as white as the snow falling from it.
I had to wake Garry up at 9 this morning, which is very early.
“Where,” I asked him, “Is the car?”
“At the bottom of the drive,” he yawned.
“I think you need to move it. It’s snowing.”
“Snowing? How much?”
“More than I expected. If you don’t move it, they can’t plow.” I didn’t yet know if it would exceed the 3-inch minimum for plowability, but I didn’t want to discover it later.
Garry sighed, barely avoided an actual whine. Got up, got dressed, went out, moved the car to the top of the driveway. I gave the dogs biscuits which they seemed very intent on getting, then opened the next big box o’ biscuits because — wonder of wonders — we were out of biscuits.
I know. Tragic. But not to fear because we have extras and I’d already ordered two more boxes to be delivered at Owen’s house because we are in the “no one delivers here anymore” zone.
Agile? We are not agile. Garry clumped back down from the parked car. Slowly and carefully because we are sensitive about the whole “falling down” thing. I’m always amazed at “snow people” who seem to manage something akin to grace while wearing gigantic ski boots and long flat poles on their feet. I can barely get from the house to anywhere else in snow and I do not look agile in the process.
We’re hunkering down around here. You all have a great day. We’ll be right here, where it’s warm. Drinking coffee. Listening to books … while the snow falls.