Blog de Puree

This year’s snowfall has been sluggish, to say the least. We’ve only received a dusting in late January. And depending on whom you talk to, it’s either good or bad. Regardless of people’s opinions, the snowfall as of 08:30 on Valentine’s Day is about one to two inches and climbing. The flakes are small, but coming down quickly. The wind is also gusting from time to time, which should make for some interesting snow drifts.

I’m seeing weather predictions of four to eight inches, so it’s up in the air as to how much we’ll really get. (Pun intended.)

The snowfall this morning is beautiful. With the layout of our kitchen, I can see out multiple windows and vantage points as I sit at the kitchen island with a nice hot cup of tea and tap away at my trusty iBook computer. The imagery outside evokes childhood winter memories and prose about winter from the likes of Henry D. Thoreau and other New England literary magnates.

“We sleep and at length awake to the still reality of a winter morning. The snow lies warm as cotton or down upon the window-sill; the broadened sash and frosted panes admit a dim and private light, which enhances the snug cheer within. The stillness of the morning is impressive. The floor creaks under our feet as we move toward the window to look abroad through some clear space over the fields. We see the roofs stand under their snow burden. From the eaves and fences hang stalactites of snow, and in the yard stand stalagmites covering some concealed core. The trees and shrubs rear white arms to the sky on every side, and where were walls and fences, we see fantastic forms stretching in frolic gambols across the dusky landscape, as if Nature had strewn her fresh designs over the fields by night as models for man’s art.”
- Henry D. Thoreau, from A Winter Walk