Closing the door

As this month comes to a close, I am combing through all the events since last posting... BiL's physical therapist gave me some helpful direction in working with the scar from his surgery, BiL is driving on his own now, freeing my schedule up considerably, I have begun visiting my hospice client again, I'm exploring several blogs and their various tweakabilities, and I finally have gotten back to my stained glass work! On the 'still pending' list is my massage office site. Some things need their time to work out. Well, there's always my own table in front of our woodstove in a pinch.

After too many days of 'melt n settle', our locale got blessed with 4-6 inches of powder last night. The pitch of conversation where I volunteer at a local coffee bar was measuably excited today. No one was jumping up and down.. the base depth at the local ski place is still not good, but any measuable snowfall gives everyone hope. I got a very nice photo this morning which I will attempt to post with this entry. Something about light coming through grayness just revs me up inside. Rainy days do that. Snowy mornings do that. :) They weather powers are forecasting snow tonight and tomorrow, but when their predictions rise, our actualities fall. For now, though, it is looking more as it should: a soft, white blanket, and pine branches clasping perfect rounds of virgin white in their green needle tips. We even got to see some new winged visitors, pine grosbeaks.... in their first year, by their russet heads.

I've enjoyed (with envy) knowing that my NE family have gotten their good share of white stuff. I am told that my grandson squeals when he sleds. Heck, I squeal for real, saucering down our driveway, never knowing where I will end up. This, of course, brings our neighbor dog (her name, I found out, is Abigail, but I keep wanting to call her Isabelle for some reason). She rambles beside me, smiling in her dog way.

Today, she followed me as I snowshoed up our west slope. I had seen her an hour earlier, 2 miles down the road with my other neighbor, so I knew she had been on the run nearly constantly, and was surprised at her abundant energy! Only on the way down did I see her occasionally collapse into the deep snow and slide rather than leap through. It was nearing late afternoon, and I was happy to have her with me to discourage any human despising cow moose. I'd love to see said moose, but not face to face.

As usual, my exertion into the white left me somehow energized, and I launched into more wood splitting and snow clearing until dark, once I got home. BiL made dinner, I started a fire, ate and cleared dishes, and now the flakes are just starting to fall again.

Yay. (not too loud, now).