Those who know me know that I am fond of decorating with lots of white paint, broken up with splashes of color. Thus a good storm adds to my preferred dwelling design! (Note, the banks at the end of the driveway are around 5 feet tall.)
Here is what my road looked like when I drove home. Un-plowed, the snow at this point was 6 or more inches of slickness. I drove very, very slowly (in what my daughter calls "Mom's Best Old Lady Driving.") Back to that preference for white? I was white knuckled as I made my way.
Once settled safely in our house I was able to enjoy some other shades... like the ember-red of this Cardinal feasting on black oil sunflower seeds. I went out several times to refill the feeders. The birds came in mobs to fill up on seeds, nuts, dried fruit and suet. In moments I was dusted in snow, with icy fingers and skin tingling from the cold. I couldn't resist sticking my tongue out to taste a few perfect flakes as they fell.
As the day closed and the storm wound down, I was treated to the sight of a sky awash in color from my icicle fringed porch. There is a certain sort of hush to a world covered in fresh snow, more pronounced as the day ends and the light drains slow as honey from the sky.
The shades of the storm wrapped up all my senses.
Here is what my road looked like when I drove home. Un-plowed, the snow at this point was 6 or more inches of slickness. I drove very, very slowly (in what my daughter calls "Mom's Best Old Lady Driving.") Back to that preference for white? I was white knuckled as I made my way.
Once settled safely in our house I was able to enjoy some other shades... like the ember-red of this Cardinal feasting on black oil sunflower seeds. I went out several times to refill the feeders. The birds came in mobs to fill up on seeds, nuts, dried fruit and suet. In moments I was dusted in snow, with icy fingers and skin tingling from the cold. I couldn't resist sticking my tongue out to taste a few perfect flakes as they fell.
As the day closed and the storm wound down, I was treated to the sight of a sky awash in color from my icicle fringed porch. There is a certain sort of hush to a world covered in fresh snow, more pronounced as the day ends and the light drains slow as honey from the sky.
The shades of the storm wrapped up all my senses.
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