We have snow this morning! It’s beautiful. And then the sun came out, making it even more beautiful.
I had my heart set on sitting in the sun and smoking a cigar, but there’s a lot of wind blowing and it might be too cold even in the sunny spots.
Getting set up in the morning is VERY difficult, these days. I can only pray the Lord will give me back my strength.
But the snow delights my eye.
[P.S.: WordPress has recently made it impossible to post still photos. They keep changing things when their customers aren’t looking.]
I know what you mean, about the changes. It is rather frustrating, but I have so many more important things to be concerned with, so I am just trying to not let it bother me.
They do mess up my work, though.
I don’t know where that video was made, but it’s sure beautiful. In my days on Colorado’s Front Range, we used to have days like that, beautiful sunny days the day after a snow storm.
We don’t have that kind of scenery, deep in the heart of Jersey: but the snow is still pretty.
Winter in the Front Range is incredibly beautiful. An east wind signals a snowstorm and after a day or so, the wind shifts to the west and a sparkling clear day where the temperatures increase enough that most, if not all of the snow melts so fast that you can watch it melting before your very eyes. Those Chinook days are my absolute favorite sort of weather.
Musings About the Snow I Left Behind
“Since I moved to the Philippines from a climate where freezing temperatures, gray landscapes, and months filled with snow are normal, many ask, do I miss the snow? Yes, I remember it fondly … shoveling our driveway for hours, then spending a few more hours removing the vast pile of snow at the end of the driveway, put there by the city’s snowplow. And after that was all gone, doing it again when the plow came by for another pass.
I remember one time during a major snowstorm, after working the second shift, barely making it home by midnight after more than an hour’s drive of what normally took twenty minutes. There, blocking my path, was a pile of chest-high, now frozen solid, rock-hard ice—which earlier had been just slush—and which now needed to be removed from my driveway so I could park my car. The temperature had dropped throughout the day, and now it was close to zero, with gale-force winds. At 2:30 a.m., just as I finished shoveling that refractory pile, thoughts of Dean Martin singing “Memories are Made of This” came to mind, as did frostbite on my toes.”
From: “7,000 Miles of Life Perspectives A Memoir”
My fondness for snow goes back to my school days. So much better to go sledding, than to sit and squirm in a classroom.
I wish we were having a white Christmas – only cold rain forecasted for Christmas Eve.