Winter came and went last night. No ghoulies; no ghosties, but a freak thunderstorm did go bump in the night.
Just before midnight, rain changed to snow. Before turning in, I looked out the window and noticed bits of ground had become white. At one thirty, I awoke and decided to check the weather. Snow had accumulated and turned most surfaces white. I returned to bed, happy that I did not have any plans to leave the house the next day. Before sleeping, I tried to recall where I had seen my shovel: garage or cellar? I hoped that I would find it in the cellar, so I could start work from the moment I opened the front door. I do not hate shoveling snow.
Upon awaking, I discovered that rain had returned and melted all the snow. Anyone having gone to bed early missed the white interlude, not knowing that winter had stopped by. I had no fresh air and no exercise...
The “bear” I mentioned yesterday turned out to be a polar bear. Everything is white, traffic--by land and by air--is snarled, shovels have be retrieved from storage, grumbling has increased, and heating costs have risen. Number One Son is stuck in Nice, unable to fly to Frankfurt Airport, an airport that rarely closes
I have never minded shoveling snow...and I have shoveled a bunch of it in my life. My school did not have a covered rink (we had an old-fashioned hockey pond), so we often were forced to shovel snow before we could practice. Richer schools had covered rinks with artificial ice: we prayed for cold, no snow, and overcast skies. Sunshine caused the lines, which were painted blue or red, to melt. Jokes about “tripping over the blue line” were no joke. Of course, we enjoyed an advantage in home games over the kids from the rich schools, because our team could practice on this tricky surface.
Shoveling snow ranks up there with leaf-raking as a good way to get fresh air and exercise, without having to discuss anything with anyone. With no reason to grumble, my mind can roam to wherever I choose, like a bumblebee buzzing from flower to flower.
Speaking of bees, I am reminded that I must buy bird food...
Each time I drive to or from my daughter's house I pass a shop selling wedding dresses. A flash of white catches my attention for no more than a second and causes no thought. That said, tonight I gave wedding dresses a bit of thought. I decided that they are like snow flakes, no two of which are supposed to be the same. I have the impression that every wedding dress is like every other wedding dress. Sure, I can tell the difference between strapless and sleeved, laced and solid, etc. But, like a snowflake, a wedding dress enjoys a fleeting moment...and then disappears, except in the memory of beholders, if at all.
Now, how's that for a bit of worthless insight into nothing?