A Quiet Blue World

The snow that began to fall on Thursday night continued today but with much less zeal. The margins of our normal world were drawn tightly inward by the storm and we fancied for a moment what it was like to live inside a snow globe. Years and years ago, my father had given me a snow globe and I would sit quietly watching the snow fall upon the little farmstead within and wistfully hoping for such a place one day.

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There is an eerie but peaceful blue cleanness to the canyon and a velvety silence everywhere. Only one vehicle went by today, the snow hushing any voice it may have had. Brou dashed around in the snow, trying to nip and herd me as I searched for wood buried in the snow. Grabbing a handful of snow and throwing it at him only ramped up his glee and pace of dashing and circling. Before I wore myself out flinging snow, he had mastered leaping up and catching the projectiles. If only, only I had but a tenth of that energy. When he came in hours later, he looked like the brim of a mariachi's hat with his hanging snow berries dancing and bobbing from every tuft of his long red hair. Between his toes were more tiny snowballs which looked disturbingly like sudden extra toes. Not that he seemed to care - this was a grand day in dog land.

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I slipped out again before nightfall and planted my old ruler into a patch of undisturbed snow ... eleven inches and a little. The predicted brunt of the storm has missed us again. The roads are still navigable if necessary but we don't need to go anywhere until next week. We have our New Years dinner stored in a cooler outside (presuming that Brou or other critters don't find it first) and a bottle of New Mexico Gruet for a bubbly midnight toast or two. From all of us here in the boonies, we wish you all a wonderful new year to come.

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