My husband is out plowing snow.  Finally, we had a real snowstorm. We have about 8 inches on the ground, counting what we had from 2 days ago.  I’m watching the birds at the feeder as I write this, and they are full of activity…lots of sparrows and juncos, one dove, one cardinal, and two jays.  I’ve got sausages in the crock pot and a chocolate cake cooling, waiting to be frosted. Snow stirs my blood, and my spirit is dancing.

Later in the afternoon, I’ll don my winter duds and venture out to have a look around.  Snow transforms everything into  a wide, white canvas where little paws leave swervy trails, and even little tails leave curvy trails. Now that’s tongue twister!

The other day, my sister Nancy and I were remembering, that as children, we were always looking for adventure. Though most were imaginary, they were, nevertheless, times of great fun.  And so, winter represents adventure to me.  The ordinary becomes mysterious, the dull becomes bright, the  drab becomes beautiful.

For example, the cluster of old sumac trees is now outlined in white, wearing a sweater knitted by the famous designer, Winter.  A bird nest way out on one of the highest limbs is holding a small mountain of snow.  It is now a vacation home closed for the winter season.

The little cups on the dried stems of Queen Ann’s Lace are filled to overflowing with white fluff, little mugs of hot chocolate topped with marshmallow.  There is no limit to what the imagination can do.  I could go on and on.

A red-headed woodpecker, wearing his white shawl, just flew by the window and landed on the trunk of the walnut tree.  So easily defying gravity, he races up the trunk, pecking here and there as he goes. Swish, and he’s gone.  Rarely does he venture into my yard, but that’s the thing about winter…miracles happen.