This morning we awoke to find that the grass was all frosted. Oooo! Pretty! So chilly! The Very Small Dog was not at all sure that she wanted to walk on the frost. She looked mighty silly trying to sniff out the right place in the yard to pee, while attempting not to put more than one paw on the ground at a time.
The frost reminds Herself of winters in New England, where she was born and raised and spent five years after graduate school. Though she doesn't necessarily miss New England itself, there are times when she is nostalgic for the mountains of snow. As long as her toes and her fingers were warm, she was happy to be out in the cold. The white blanket of snow, the gray sky, the quiet. Beautiful.
She remembers shoveling snow in the winter when she was pregnant with Offspring the First. At five or so months along, she had finally left the days of nausea and fatigue behind, and there was something very satisfying about the combination of the warmth of her burgeoning belly within her parka and the mild exertion of the shoveling. Chipping ice off the windshield was not nearly as enjoyable, though.
She would not mind a little shoveling this winter. Will there be snow?
Poetry Thursday, courtesy of a friend
1 day ago