Today, I am thankful for a snowy Sunday.
Nearly a foot of pure white powder sits quietly on the landscape with more falling every second.
It's been a while since I've experienced so much snow at home. I'm awed and filled with wonder. When I went to bed last night, a mere dusting decorated the yard.
I think of Robert Frost's famous poem ...
Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
T, thrilled to play with his snow buddies, escapes the house and dives joyfully into the icy froth. He dances and prances in the powder, showing off his best Labrador retriever snow moves.
Then, reality sets in. I begin thinking about the snow's inconvenience. In particular, the work required to clear the driveway and sidewalks later today. I also anticipate the drive to work early tomorrow morning. After all these years living in Colorado, I still hate driving on icy and snow-packed roads. I guess I will always be a Southern California girl.
For this blessing, I am grateful.