I should have pictures of snow. Or at least of my cat in the snow. There’s plenty outside to photograph. Plenty of cats, too. The problem is, I keep trying to open my doors to go outside and they creak and push against little drifts of icy-nastiness at which point, I give up. When it comes to cold snow, I cede to it almost immediately. “I give… you win! Uncle!!”
This white wonderland outside my window is best left to look at. Certainly not something I want to play in. Snowshoeing. Snow Skiing. Sledding. Cross country skiing. Building snowmen or snow forts or having snowball fights. Go for it. I’ll stay inside and make you some soup and hot cocoa. That’s my job. Maybe I’ll write a little poem for you. An ode to snow.
As a matter of fact, I have a concoction of Northern Beans, diced tomatoes, spinach, Italian Sausage, chicken breast, in a nice turkey broth on the stove right this very minute. (Yes, that’s home-made broth. Oh, and I seasoned it with parsley, thyme, and basil from the summer garden.) Smell good? Oh yeah. Smells great. I’ll eat it while I look out the window at the snow. I’ll feed it to my husband who is out being “King of Snow.” Teaching it a lesson. Blowing it and scooping it. He’s winning, too. He’ll teach that snow to pile up in our driveway. I am watching him and very, very glad to be in, and not out. Warm, and not cold. Thank you, Hubby.
Now, here’s my ode to snow.
You’re wet, and cold, I am not sold, on winter sports and frolic.
I’ll stay inside where I can hide, cause snow just gives me colic.
P.S. Enjoy the picture of my cat. That is all. You may now return to your regularly scheduled programming.