Winter's last blast

The snow began late yesterday afternoon. All our errands were finished and we were home safe, watching movies or hockey, fooling around on the computer, or laughing over a game of Scrabble in front of a glowing fire, before it got nasty. Within no time, the ground was covered in white. Within two hours, there was no evidence that Spring had been here -- tree branches were bent under the weight of snow, warm earth was hidden, the deer had retreated to the woods. After darkness fell, the winds began to howl -- a primitive lullaby to put us to sleep.

This morning, there is snow everywhere. Cloud-like cotton candy blankets the ground and wraps the trees. The sun is hidden, cocooned inside layers and layers of milky gauze. The sky has cast a grey, baleful eye upon us -- a warning to stay indoors, perhaps.

I'm glad it's Sunday. There is no where we have to be, no demands upon us other than to stay safe and warm.

Not so our neighbour who is shoveling his driveway and scraping ice from his car's windows -- a chore I hope to avoid. I prefer to await the warmth that will arrive later today or tomorrow and melt away Winter's last blast. Nothing more, I hope, than the cantankerous bark of an aging dog chiding us, from his soft bed in the corner, that he's still here.

Time to flick the switch that will bring the flames in the fireplace back to life and to pour a cup of tea -- something with cinnamon and orange sounds right for this morning -- and to begin a day of indolence.

How lovely that Winter has provided this breathing space for us. A reminder to not race ahead and become caught up in the excitement of Spring and the glamour of Summer before taking a slight pause to remember the season that was.

Colleen