Shoveling Through a Winter Wonderland, or, The Snow Queen Pays a Visit
It seemed like a nice idea at the time — and I still think it was. At just after midnight the night before Christmas, technically Christmas Day local time, I posted my Facebook “Christmas card” with a painting, courtesy of Victorian Vampire Society UK, by Edmund Dulac (1882-1953) illustrating a 1911 edition of THE SNOW QUEEN, AND OTHER STORIES FROM HANS ANDERSEN. Little did I know at the time (drum roll up) that in scarcely more than 24 hours the regal lady would be on my doorstep, in fact literally, in drifts, covering the front porch.
So this morning came the digging out — one thing good, a package from my sister yesterday contained warm gloves. Other activities on Christmas included devouring, with a tiny bit of help from the cave cat Wednesday, a small chicken, along with sweet and Irish potatoes, green beans, onion, and salad; unwrapping the presents (Wednesday got a new toy spider which she’s playing with as I write this) accompanied with hot chocolate laced with coffee; and much, much later enjoying orange slices and cherry pie with whipped cream topping while watching NUTCRACKER: THE MOTION PICTURE (cf. December 9 — yes, since then I got my own copy) on the VCR. Music via Public Broadcasting on the TV accompanied much of the day’s activities, in fact, a pleasant time all around, although interrupted at times as the afternoon and evening progressed by National Weather Service warnings that the night and next day would bring a blizzard.
So we almost had a white Christmas, missing by only just over three hours (so I’m a night person in my natural habitat — vampires are too), and we certainly have a white Day After Christmas, my stairs now cleared enough for the Post Office guy to get from the street to my mailbox, if the Post Office guy even comes out today, another path cleared to the alley out back with a branch to my back door (I even had to shovel off the top of the garbage can). How many inches deep? — it’s hard to say with all the drifting. But one thing I can say:
From time to time I’d stop to rest, especially by the time I’d gotten to the back, and looking around, it’s stunningly beautiful.