I had lofty plans of what to write today... tomes in my head about the beauty of my two dogs; about life in the woods; about Scott and his son turning four fallen trees into a tremendous pile of firewood, and how I love watching manly men doing manly things in manly ways; about how very comforting it was to have gone to sleep alone the other night, feeling kind of lousy, and then waking to find myself wedged between Scott on one side and two warm sprawled dogs on the other (Talk about body heat on a cold rainy night! Talk about a sense of security!); there was something in there about cooking too; and artwork. I had a head packed full of stuff when I went to sleep.
And then I woke up. Up in the loft I have a window on my side of the bed that looks out on a big pine in my side yard. Typically as soon as my eyes open my gaze falls on that. This morning was no different... except that the tree is completely white. Again. Again! So far I've got a good six inches of the stuff and it's still coming down heavy. Now, all I want to do is leash the beasties and go for a long walk, or maybe get a good sled and harness them.
...The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
~Robert Frost, Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening