Snow, Ice, Wind - Part II, The Arctic Blast

I haven't gotten out of my ski pants, save total disrobement, in three days. I bend over, I lace my boots, I secure my goggles, I zip my parka, I get gloved and out I go into the white. I love it, I am afloat on all of that dry white snow that has obscured my corner and nullified the steps up to my front porch.

I've gone sledding, I've gone stomping through the snow, I have found that feets of snow impede motion, and let us not speak civilly of that horrid wind chill, that hurts my teeth when J make me giggle as we are fetching bacon for his lovely family, and makes my nose run like, like a german snot luge.

I sat in agony for a long while tonight while my bad ankle sent spikes of pain up my shin in protest of all of those dritfts of snow I gladly thromped through, booted and suited I stood at the stop for the mytholigical bus beast that never came. Toted back the sum total of my meager Christmas shopping and groceries in my green bags this afternoon, felt thoroughly little house on the prairie, had a glass of wine, did the dishes, did the laundry, shoveled the porch, had a bath, felt momentarily invincible.

and then I tried to upload photos and was thwarted, therefore I will go to bed.

It's been beautiful and I have loved every inch of snow on the ground.