Winter garden:  Bed frame in the snow

Winter garden: Bed frame in the snow

Good evening from the Land of the Swirling Snow.  There’s snow swirling left and right outside the windows right now.  It twirls like misty ghosts, around and around in circles and spirals.  The wind dances with the snow like an invisible partner, urging it faster and faster around trees, roof-tops, log piles and houses.  Who wants to go outside now?

Soon my husband and I shall both head out the front door after darkness falls. He shall plow the driveway clear of its maybe eight inches of newly fallen snow.  And I shall jockey cars out of the tractor’s path.  There’s an entire science to plowing the driveway and moving cars out of the way.  It’s really too complicated to report all the details right now….but maybe someday we’ll get into a blog about Plowing 101.

But I prevaricate.  Today’s outdoor activity occurred before lunch-time.  My friend Bertha and I walked this morning on the Crooked Road.  We parked our vehicles at the country Lutheran church and walked briskly along.  It’s not really officially called the Crooked Road anymore.  When we moved here almost thirty years ago, everyone called it Crooked Road, but the road commission or road-namers have deemed it something else.  To the old-timers (apparently I’m one….hmmmm…) it shall always be Crooked Road.

We were aiming to walk a big circle back to the car, almost three miles.  However, once we left Crooked Road, the next back-road proved way too slippery.  So we turned around, faced the biting whipping roaring wind(actual tears rolling down my face with the ferocity of the wind), and re-traced our steps.   We caught up on about everything in the universe as the heavy snow fell on our hats, our faces, our eyelids, our coats.  It’s good to walk with a friend.

Would you like to see a couple pictures of the ground outside our kitchen window?  Look what are pecking on the ground….two fat and sassy mourning doves!  We used to rarely see them this far north (except maybe in town) but in recent years they’ve staged a come-back due to perhaps global warming or new wintering instincts.  Mourning doves remind me of my mom, so they’re very special.  She and I have always liked to listen to their unique cooing sounds.

Mourning doves through kitchen window with my husband's camera

Mourning doves through kitchen window with my husband's camera

Another photo taken several days later in almost the identical location shows vole or shrew tracks and tunnels everywhere.  Astute readers will remember I caught a glimpse of the industrious fellow the other day while I was sitting non-industriously underneath the spruce tree.

Vole or shrew tunnels in the snow

Vole or shrew tunnels in the snow

That’s today’s update.  The tractor battery is charged up.  The driveway’s beckoning.  Time to play outside in the dark!   P.S.  no photos of swirling snow.  Far too elusive for the camera to capture…

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