The first thing I did with this December snow was to wonder at it. We probably don’t have a number big enough to estimate how many flakes fell on our property. It boggles the mind to know each flake is different. I stood outside, picked one flake as high up as I could see, and watched it float down to see where it would land. You could hypnotize yourself doing that. I wanted to ask the old oak tree, “How many snow storms have you seen? What were things like 200 years ago?”
When the snow was almost over, I measured it and tasted it. The green ruler showed we had eight inches on the deck. You need children for snow cream, but I made do with my inner childish self. I piled fresh snow in a bowl and added sugar and vanilla flavoring. I was surprised it became icy and a bit crunchy. It would have been better if I had remembered the recipe and put in a bit of milk. I wondered what would happen if you substituted confectioner’s sugar, honey, or molasses for the sugar. Would adding Coca Cola sweeten and flavor it? Would cardamom and almond flavoring appeal to our Norwegian relatives? I could have sprinkled four spices on it and called it pumpkin spice for daughter Lise. She might have liked it flavored with cranberry/raspberry juice, too. I’ll bet the grandsons would have opted for root beer. Shrimp and cocktail sauce, anyone?
No snow storm is complete without proof of what you saw. There was a beautiful shot in any direction you turned.
When I tired of having my mind boggled, I ended with laughing at odd sculptures. Even clothes pins had topknots.
This was a most satisfying snow, especially considering we were promised half an inch.