Winter dropped by yesterday morning. Evidently it plans to stay for the weekend.
Early in the morning, I watched a line of cattle trudging resolutely through the snow from their trough toward the aspen grove.
This is the time when town grows quiet and the out-of-state license plates dwindle. For all those creatures that the visitors like to watch in summer and target in the autumn, it is the start of the season of endurance.
“Are you glad to see all this snow?” I asked a man in camouflage who was filling up at the next gas pump.
“You bet,” he said. “It drives the game downhill.”
Driving home, I saw large herds of antelope and deer in the fields between the houses and the highway right at the edge of town. Among them I saw a four-point buck. These game aren’t dumb, as any hunter would tell you.
Last evening, I watched horses behind the house nosing through the snow to graze.
The dog enjoyed nosing through it for fun, but his ball got lost in it. Next week, we know, the ball will emerge again and grazing will be easier for a while. This is just a brief reminder of what is to come.
For humans, it’s time to relocate the snowshoes or check the engines on the snowmobiles. Next time, we will remember to lift the wipers off the windshield when we see it coming. Home changes from breezy to cosy.
Back in New York City, this kind of snowfall would have had altogether less significance.
The kids would have the day off school. I would take them to the park with the $10 plastic saucer sled. Someone else’s kid would ask to borrow it for a run and not return it afterwards
We would have to break out the ice melt and shovel our 14-foot patch of sidewalk. The corner grocery store would have been stupidly crowded. Some folks would complain that the mayor wasn’t sending the plows out fast enough or to the right neighborhoods.
The snowstorm would make national news coverage.
“How are you getting by?” gasped a customer-service agent over phone during one such “blizzard.” I laughed.
© Lois Wingerson, 2017
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