The official forecast was for one to three inches, but this weather front was tracking in from the southwest, turning north along the Blue Ridge of the Appalachian Mountains. The spousal unit and I figured it would be more than three, but we didn't think it would be almost seven inches.Everywhere I look the world is white and beautiful. Before long, when the sun rises above the mountain, it's going to be dazzling. That may not be such a pleasing thing when I go out and hop on the John Deere 1023 to clear the lane. The wind is picking up, too, and this snow is very powdery. It's blowing off the trees in whirls of mini-blizzards.
I hear people bitch about snow, how they hate it. They fail to see it as a simple country pleasure. A woman I've known since I was eight years old moved to Florida ostensibly to get away from winter weather and snow. It's a lame excuse. You can run from geography but not yourself. I have a different take on the "barrenness" of winter.
No, I don't mind winter or the snow. Snow is the first harbinger of the coming spring, an early emissary we fail to acknowledge as such. I see its promise all around me, a promise it keeps every year. I can't imagine not being here on the manor to accept that promise and reap its rewards. And so I am grateful for the snow.
The Lady of Holly Tree Manor (The Hideaway)