A lick of Winter

 

These very few brushes with snow make me so nostalgic for the Hudson Valley where I grew up. When I was a kid, I lived in my snowsuit, mittens, and boots imagining life as an Eskimo. 

The quality of sound in the winter there was so different. Everyone notices the quiet. I listened to the sounds that different kinds of snow made as it fell. The rumble and chain jingling of the town trucks coming through after midnight to plow. How my big outdoor voice fell at my feet. I could sing outside and not fear anyone hearing me.

 

 This morning I wanted to go outside so I could hear the snow falling, but it was bitter cold and I'm fairly certain that acuity is long gone. Next time, if there is one, I'll stick in the hearing aids and forgo the down comforters. 

He said he missed shoveling snow but did the whole driveway because he had to go to work. This was Camilla's first snow. She was not favorably impressed. Even though she had the densest coat I've ever seen on a cat, she's been spending her time hanging out on the heat registers.