Walking along patches of snow, my boots clomp into its forgiving mass. The silence is immense and I welcome its cheerful observance of my virgin boots stamping California steps onto New England land. Land- once splendid in its coat of many colors, now shorn to reveal just two. Just enough. White amidst charcoal accents. Charcoal muddying white. And me in my bright burnt orange coat fanning the campus paths like a slow-moving firefly make an occasional third.
I LOVE the sound and feel of crunching snow. It is very satisfying, indeed.
1st, in response to your other blog entry–baked hot chocolate? What? Do tell me about that.
Also, you have a burnt orange coat? So do I! It goes to the knee and has brown (fake) fur around the bottom and collar.
We went to Leeds Castle the other day with the kiddos by train and it snowed generously on us and then melted. But we got our fill! Yippee for the gray and white and then double yippee for the happy sunshine. I miss California! They have palm trees around here that mock my pain when I see them–I wish they’d go away! Love you lots!