Here it comes again, the snow. The second big dump of the week, the second time in days that strangers and friends get to connect by gasping at the weather reports (50 centimetres!), boast about hours of shovelling, and tune into CBC Radio to hear people call in about who helped them, and how, when the snow socked them in.
This morning opens with a dog walk with Julie, Jenn, Ali, and our dogs. Blue races around taunting her bigger besties and gets bulldozed several times. She rights herself, slightly dazed, salted with snow, and begins wagging again to gain momentum for the next tease.
We marvel at living so near the forest. We ooh at the birds congregating right above us on low-lying branches, a celebration, we decide, more than anything Hitchcockian. No one dares to guess what type of birds. That is too advanced for us – we know our limits. Earlier this week we tried to guess where in the world Oman might be. We kind of knew. I should have known given that Craig is there at this very moment.
After that, I mop the house with a brand-new fancy contraption. This makes me embarrassingly delighted. After soaking up my triumph for an hour or so, I head out to get food. An older lady struggles in the snow with her walker. I help to carry it over the worst with another woman, and we all feel lucky to have met each other in just that moment.
This afternoon, Blue is tired. O is downstairs with his wonderful tutor. G is out in the world, spending my money. I am huddled in bed about to work, but first, first, I look outside my window at the snow falling once again, giddy in the knowledge it will keep falling for hours.
