I woke this morning to a telephone call, and was greeted, when I looked outside, to a gentle snowfall. The dogs came in from their early wanderings with sparkling wet fur. It has changed, over the last hour, to something more serious. The snowflakes are larger, and holding tight to everything. My view is transformed! It is beautiful!
This would be a good day for a pot of soup simmering on the stove, a loaf of bread rising. It would be a good day for sitting with a good book, as the snow sifts down outside. It would be a good day for lighting scented candles and listening to soft jazz. It would be a good day for special activities and projects, and I have a long list.
Sunday is one of my days for writing this blog. After apologizing and explaining about no “Timeout for Art” on Thursday, I was planning a long essay. Then, I was going to dress for the weather, and get myself and my big dog out of the house for a long walk. I am partway through a purging, cleaning and rearranging project that (according to my sister, Brenda, who read an interpretation based on the alignment of the stars) should be finished within the next two weeks, or the chaos in my life will still be around in August. I can’t have that! I also planned to be here if my daughter should call, as we are in the final stages of putting our next issue of the Beacon together.
Well, none of that is going to happen this morning. The phone call that woke me up was a request that I go in to work today; the person who was scheduled put her back out. Of course, I can do that. So, it’s up and away, this morning, with four inches of heavy snow to scrape from my car before my trek to town on roads not yet plowed, to work at the hardware store.