We woke up this morning to a light dusting of snow on rooftops and cars. The temperature was already up to 33F, though, so I bundled up in tights, corduroys, undershirt, t-shirt, sweater, quilted jacket, white wool scarf, ski hat, thick socks, and mittens, to take Tasha for her morning walk. She is still coughing occasionally, but still loves her walks and prances around waiting for me to put all these clothes on, and then, after all that, my wellies.
It is misty and damp, and the snow is melting fast. What is it about snow that is so exciting, at least for me? Maybe it is my California upbringing, where snow was a rare treat to be found only in the mountains, or does everyone feel that way? It is a stunning, overnight transformation of leafless branches and barren fields into Christmas trees and sugar-frosted vistas, the change from the mundane to the magical.
- Dinner Party in the village, aftermath
- Only in England