The woods at night in a late February snowstorm

The woods at night in a late February snowstorm

It’s snowing again!  You guessed that, right?  A lovely late February snowstorm to keep us amused and entertained yet again by snowflakes, snowdrifts, blowing snow and sideways snow.

At least the snow (four to five inches so far?  six?  seven?  who can tell when it’s dark outside?)  covers up the icy driveways and sidewalks that kept people praying for upright balance today. 

I waited to go outside until after dark.  About the time the snowstorm built into some intensity.  I stay inside far too often at night.  Only once (after the first night solstice fire) during this outdoor commitment have I ventured outdoors at night.  Tonight insisted upon compliance. 

On went the snowmobile suit, hat, mittens, scarf, boots (you know the routine by now, don’t you?) and the search around the house for the camera.  It’s becoming an appendage.  One doesn’t dare go outside without the camera, for you never know what interesting opportunity lurks behind the next tree or ravine.

Yep, our mailbox at night

Yep, our mailbox at night

Looks like a snowball is being delivered in that mailbox picture, doesn’t it?  I must say it’s interesting to wander around in the dark in a snowstorm.  You can hardly determine that it’s actually snowing with your sight.  Since it’s pitch dark, the only indication of snow is the sprinkling of wet on your face and cheeks.  If you wear glasses, you get a sense of blurriness in the dark as your glasses cover with heavy wet flakes.

If you’re unfamiliar with the terrain, watch out.  I only tripped once, near the woodpile, but did not fall.  I wandered through the snow to the left, to the right, to the back, to the front.  Listened for sounds.  No animals hooting or howling or pawing or scurrying.  Only the sound of distant trucks and the snow pattering like tiny icy pellets.

Tree branches covered with snow

Tree branches covered with snow

The spruce tree branches looked like arms reaching out into the night, long fingers stretching out toward the innocent passerby.  I wanted to capture a photo of that sense of the tree limbs spreading out, somehow communicating.  It’s strange how the darkness elongates everything, especially the imagination!

When I found myself staring longingly at the house, taking photos of the warm glow from within, I said goodnight to the darkness and came inside, shaking snow all over the floor and carpeting.  Goodnight, everyone!

Wanting to open the door, go back inside   :)

Wanting to open the door, go back inside 🙂

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