Six weeks ago I blogged about being sick of winter. Little did I know it would go on and on and on. . . Everyone is wondering if winter will ever end. Tomorrow is the first day of spring – on the calendar anyway. The high will be 23 degrees – low 0.
Yesterday we had yet another round of snow. How much? Who knows or cares anymore. We had our driveway plowed – our very long driveway. Then the wind kicked in. I woke up many times during the night listening to the wind howl, wondering if I was going to make it into town for water aerobics. Not only did I not make it out, but my husband didn’t either – and he drives a truck. We just had it plowed, and now I wonder how long it will take for it to drift shut again. Much of our snow fence is buried and isn’t doing much good anymore.
As much as I want it all to melt, it is beautiful. If I use my writer’s imagination, I can put myself somewhere else. Overnight, the plain, flat layers of snow have drifted into what looks like white caps waving in the ocean. If I look carefully, the snow actually looks blue. The wind-driven snow skimming over the top is steam rising from the hot sun over cool water. Our birds, flitting from feeder to feeder, have become pelicans diving for their morning breakfast. In my mind, the blasting wind is now the roar of ocean waves against the shore as I sit, basking in the sun, reading a romantic mystery. The sting of snow against my face (when I braved the 7 below temperatures to take pictures) is salt spray on my skin as I search for shells. . .
Okay, you get the idea. As much as I, and many, many others, complain about the snow and long winter, if we use our imaginations, we can be anywhere we want – as long as it isn’t here.
The picture of the bird is a Horned Lark taken two days ago. The bush behind him is now completely buried. And the last one is to keep my imagination going and my hope up that spring will be here – sometime.