I know there are some out there who grumble about the snow day. Who would trade a cold, dark December day for a sunny day in June?
Every snow day is a gift, and I live it to its fullest. Sure, we have to make it up in June, but I'd be a fool not to enjoy the moment I have been given.
In the history of snow days this one was a one of the best.
The snow did not start right away. I didn't have to shovel my way to the car.
Instead, the dog and I went for our morning run. A rare treat this time of year; we didn't have to run in the dark.
Few people were on the road, for they anticipated the snow. The dog and I took the road less traveled and hit the trails in the woods.
We haven't done that in a long time.
Left over ice from yesterday crunched beneath our feet, the leaves surprisingly more stable than the ice on the road. I plodded along at my pace while the dog moved at his - a true Border Collie bolt. I watched him leap over stone walls and hurdle downed trees. It's hard to say who was happier. And then the snow began to fall. It was beautiful.
I learned (or re-learned!) a few things on that morning run:
There is no silence like the woods in a snow fall.
I love my dog.
Snowflakes are really cold when they land in your eye.
Stone walls are stories with hidden treasures - and I'd follow them anywhere.
If you breathe too deeply when it's snowing the flakes go up your nose.
The sound of a car after silence is jarring.
The snow began on our run, and it continued all day. At home we baked bread, began assembling our gingerbread barn, built snowmen, ate popcorn, warmed ourselves by the stove, and created memory after memory. My whole family was with me on this gift of a snow day. It just doesn't get better than that.
So, although today's present means an extra day in June, I have nothing but joy in my heart.
And on that sunny day in June perhaps we'll spend our time together writing outside, beneath a tree, and enjoy that gift, too.
Happy snow day, and happy writing.