Snow blog or snow plow, here in the Northeast tonight you can do both. There is such stillness outside that the only sound is an occasional rattle of tree and wind.
These are the times you can go inside your head and find all manner of thoughts warming themselves around the campfire. In my case, the wood burning stove. Snow blogging does not have to be about the weather because this precipitation does not indicate brain freeze.
My mind mellows out and meanders into thinking about a fierce snowstorm we had many years ago. The snow was piled so high that the kids could climb onto the roof of the house. I spend a lot of time that day, playing snow cop, talking them down and pretending not to be amused.
Today I regret being so parental. What fun I missed.
There are no children here anymore. They've grown and moved away. The snow piles up on the roof tonight, but there are no footprints zigzagging across it. Snow blogging makes me melancholy for not taking the time to savor the laughter of those children at their winter game. Snow blogging reminds me that I let those unexpected times slip by, too busy cooking, too busy busy, too busy shoveling, and too busy to put on a hat, gloves and boots and make the trek to higher ground.
Snow blogging finds me longing for that snowbound day of the past when the kids were still here. I'd be less concerned about getting to the next day and the day after that. I'd fall back in the snow and wave my arms and legs outward and inward, creating a snow angel that could be seen by the children standing on the roof. I imagine that their memory would be of mom's snow angel, rather then of mom's "no television" unless you come in right now.
Snow blogging reminds me that I need to lighten up. Maybe when the grandkids come, and there is a snowstorm, I'll put on my boots, mittens and hat and stay outside directing their small feet in the art of climbing up roofs where they can see the world from a different vantage point.
Blog what you hear, what you think, what you see.