There has been no real snow for us yet this winter down at sea level although the mountains surrounding us have had plentiful snowfall, making for happy skiers and snowboarders. So last night, the clouds did try. The temperature was 32 degrees, the southerly winds brought in moisture and the precipitation fell. Some of it came in snowflakes. Some of it came in raindrops. Most of it came down in tiny little shards of ice that cracked against the windows.
The ground was covered in slush and ice this morning while the skies still were confused about what exactly to exude. As the temperature slowly rose, raindrops reigned.
I have always been inept at walking on slippery surfaces, probably since my first traumatic roller skating fiasco where most of the hour in the rink was spent on my butt, or pulling friends down with me as they tried to keep me upright. I’ve skied once and that was once too much–I barely made it home. I’ve never ice skated–simply walking down the slope to the barn on surfaces like today is adventure enough, Yak Traks and all. I’ll confess. My body hates sliding in any form. My feet betray me, my balance is nonexistent, and my brain panics. Some of us have nervous systems that can’t handle it and we will crash no matter what we do or the defensive postures we assume. If we are going to have snow, at least let it be enough to crunch through up to my knees so that if I lose my balance, I face plant into a nice drift, thank you very much.
So a skiff of snow with ice quite undid me this morning. I managed to finish my chores after sliding gracelessly down to the barn, and defying all the laws of physics, I slid my way back up to the house, if it is possible to slide uphill. And here I sit, looking out at it all, wishing for the mud of spring, something I feel much more at home with.
What do I do with a Saturday like this?
Make soup and hunker down. Pull everything still edible out of the refrigerator and cut, dice, stir and simmer into something wonderful to last several days, in case I’m stranded that long. If I can’t walk outside with confidence, I’ll at least have something inside to show for it.
Oh, and take a nap. Maybe several.
Hankerings 