It's been a long time since we've had this kind of snowfall in south central Indiana (someone said a decade) – many inches of the kind of soft powder that makes people pull out their long-forgotten cross country skis. Savannah spent two days sledding with high school friends, little kids again. Jack is on a bus back from a long-anticipated week of skiing in Aspen; he may be bummed to learn that he missed a couple of days of spectacular powder here.
For me, it mostly looked peaceful and beautiful. Weclomed snow slow days. I took a few photos of the snow on trees in our yard, hunkered down to focus on various projects, and listened to the beautiful silence.
John Cage talked about everything as music: sounds heard. (I know this thanks to my brother, John.) I thought about that while shoveling the driveway. In the distance – a neighbor at the same task. A nice percussive sound, and because the snow was so light and easy to deal with, not a lot of cussing to accompany the shovel.