Snow

Snow has been falling softly out of a pewter coloured sky all around my house since last night, soft fluffy snow blanketing the garden, clinging to the tree branches, piling up in corner drifts, muffling the sounds of the city.

Snowglobes have nothing on this display of Mother Nature.  The snow gets between Libby's toes making ice balls.  She and I pick the ice out when we come from  play time.  A slight breeze rocks the big evergreens at the back of the property but not enough to knock off the snow left by the storm.  The air is crisp, cold and dry on my face as I shovel the walk. The car is snug under it's snow blanket.  I'll leave it be.  There is no rush. This is winter.