90 and Snow

You might think that a snow day would be less of a big deal to me now that I'm retired and would be staying home whether the weather was wintery or not. And until today, I might have agreed with you in theory, but I was still a little giddy when the world turned white overnight. 

Of course, the fact that Heidi didn't have to go to work was the first bonus of the day, but we both still set our alarms last night: she to walk with Lucy and their friends in the morning, and I to start the newest 40-day meditation with my yoga guru. But 7 a.m. found me right back in bed, and soon Lucy and Heidi were snoozing, too, and not a one of us got up again until after 10.

The rest of the morning was taken up with coffee and breakfast as snowflakes fluttered from the sky by the trillions, piling up into several inches on the ground. A little after noon we headed out to brush off the car and shovel a bit. As is usually the case around here, we were joined in the parking lot by several neighbors, and working together, we made light work of clearing the snow that had already fallen.

Next on our agenda was snowshoeing. Some years, we toss our snowshoes in the car when we head up to Buffalo for Christmas, but most winters they languish in their bag in the attic, waiting, as we do, for a snow deep enough for them. Today, the conditions were perfect. We tromped up and down in fresh powder,  around and behind the buildings in our neighboring communities, and then back into our own, where we scaled hills and snow banks to make it home.

A fire, a phone call to my siblings, and my father's favorite dinner filled the final hours of daylight and evening. He would have been 90 today, and I couldn't help thinking that this was the kind of day he might have enjoyed, too.