As I sat here trying to work out what I could put in the potluck today, I was interrupted by my dogs wanting to go out, I dutifully obliged and as I opened the door was greeted by a shitload of snow! Now I knew that such childhood delights were predicted for my area, but I was only expecting the usual smattering of snowflakes that have turned to slush by the time you’ve donned all the layers of clothes that are required to make a snowman. But no, this a thick goose-down duvet of wonder that was just asking for a frolic. I had mistakenly thought that my slippers would be sufficient and quickly had a rethink before swapping them for heavy duty boots, before I jumped right in with my very excited pooches. The younger one was having his first snow experience, utterly confused yet excited for a whole new collection of things to eat, bark at, generally intimidate/run away from (depending how threatening a particular snowflake looked). My older dog is a dab hand, showing the youngster how it’s done. He has long favoured the ‘try to eat every snowflake as it falls’ method, and had a jolly old time, though he sadly failed in his quest to catch every single one. Poor dear.
I was quite content to simply watch my four legged friends have a ball, although I felt a small pang of dismay every time the smooth, just settled blanket was disturbed by haphazard paw. I hope that my neighbours will not hold the carnage that our cul-de-sac has become against me, maybe tonight’s frivolities will be disguised by more snowfall by morning. And then we can do it all over again.