Today when I woke up I looked out the window and there was snow.
I sprang into action and ran down to the basement and got out my warm hiking clothes from 1996, including my hated teal long underwear, and wrapped up and headed to the store for some oatmeal and a lightbulb for the aforementioned basement. We’d been using headlamps to do our laundry for a couple days and it was getting old.
Very different from last year’s snow day when it was all scary with getting to work and taking the bus and worrying about driving. This time all I had to do was walk to the store and look at the dogs in sweaters and admire the views.
I thought about making a snow angel but contented myself with thinking crisp clean snowy thoughts. I watched my footprints appear behind me and enjoyed the sensation of being warm in the cold. I caught a glimpse of my gloves against my black coat and thought about how great they looked. At the store there were two little girls holding a bake sale for the tsunami victims and so I bought a brownie and ate it right there. At home there were books to read and lunch to be eaten and tea to be drunk and coffee to be gotten and my nose to be blown, and I thought with pleasure about a whole day with nothing much to do. There are times when you feel guilty when you don’t do much and there are times when not doing much is clearly the only option.
The snow has melted, pretty much, since this morning, and so I’m glad I took pictures when it was still on the ground. There is something so satisfying about coming in out of the cold.