It’s chilly outside today. There are rumors flying about that we could have snow tonight. When I went to the market at the blush of dawn this morning, my car door was loath to open, so cold it was. With a sound not unlike the cracking of bones, after a bit of a struggle, it reluctantly released its will and allowed me to open it.
I want snow – real snow. Not just a dusting, but the kind of snow for building men and sledding down steep hills at the speed of light. I miss those deep cleansing snows.
Some of the most delicious days of my life have been snowy days, days when frosted window panes were frigid to the touch, when the sky was gray and low, and the sounds of the world were muffled, days that looked as soft as puffs of cotton, but felt as sharp as the nip of a thousand tiny butterflies on my face.
Snowy days. I’m longing for one in the worst sort of way.
Photo: Vintage House