The Storm

It slid silently in on white-webby feet of faint flakes of snow, swirling about lackadaisically as though pretending there was no intention on nature's part to sling yet another big one at us. After yesterday's ravine walk in the wake of the latest foot-high deposit of snow, we were out doing the weekly food shopping, just preparing to leave for home when the first few innocent flakes began to appear.

And they steadily increased, as we knew would happen; else why would there be a winter storm-watch alert? Nature is clever in disguising her intent, but all those climatologists who have so long studied her feints and gestures are quite capable of discerning what she has in store for us. Aided in no little shade by news coming from south of our border, where our neighbours have been subjected to earlier incarnations of this very storm now assembling overhead.

Waking up halfway through the night our bedroom was illuminated as though by day; the brightness of the steadily falling snow turning night into day. By the time we awoke in the morning there was yet another thick and fluffy layer that required attention before we could encourage our little dogs to have a round in the backyard. It took an hour to shovel the deck, the deck stairs, and all the interconnecting little trails we maintain for their ease of movement.

And then, suddenly, during breakfast, the snow stopped. Just like that. The sky was still that bright pewter where, when you look up to the roofs of houses burdened with snow, you cannot tell where the snow leaves off and the sky begins. Opportunity to get out the snow thrower and clear off the driveway to make room for what we know will most certainly fall in the succeeding hours.

And yes, two hours later the snow began anew, this time thickly, heavily intent on recapturing ground lost to the war of the shovels. The winds, we're warned, will be picking up, blowing up to 70kmh by nightfall, and people are being warned to stay off the roads. We slipped out briefly to pick up some bubbly, then glad to be back home, since road conditions are not good and the snowfall is steadily increasing.

Thankful we are of the comfort of a house that is our home, surrounded by all those items that make a home the comfort that it is. We are guarded against the excesses of the elements. Under these circumstances, no thought given to assaying our way into the ravine, just now. Conditions simply too inclement for two little dogs, although we'd manage.

There are other opportunities we can take advantage of. Not only enjoying a few more hours of reading than we can normally rely upon, but other things too. My husband is downstairs in his basement workshop, putting together yet another stained glass window. For my part I was busy with our two little woolly-mammoth miniatures, giving them long overdue haircuts. Much to their dismay, and our satisfaction.

Nice to know there's no compelling reason for us to venture out into this amble-averse weather. We'll have more than enough opportunity in the next few days to admire the snow-laden trees in the ravine - that is if the blasting winds of the storm don't succeed in ravishing the boughs of their crystalline bounty. Meanwhile, looking out our windows, there is a thick white veil over the landscape.

There'll be increasing white-outs as the day progresses into nightfall. Families briefly escaping our environment for March break have been arriving at the airport only to discover that their flights have been cancelled. We've been through all this before. It's always fresh and new, though.