at least some of the snow remains from friday morning's thunder-snow storm. in shadowed places, on north facing lawns the sun has yet to do it's do. the good thing abut snow storms here on the high plains-- the storm never hangs around for long; when it moves into the area it's most always passing through toward someplace else. outside the mountains of dirtied white stuff plowed into the far corners of the mall parking lots, in a few days time no trace of this early storm will remain.
traffic on the I-40 corridor passes to the east and west just a couple of blocks north of our house. running north and south, one of little a-towns busiest streets, coulter avenue, is just a block to the east. most of time passes without my being conscious of the thousands of cars and trucks passing by-- so close, and yet so far.
among my favorite things is waking in the morning after a night of falling snow. the city, the neighborhood, our house, all wrapped in a white muffler. it's like waking in a sound proof room. no hint of the interstate, the bustle of the city muted beyond perception. my world is perfect, at least for a moment.
if only every morning could start with the heightened sense of peace of an overnight snowfall. on second thought, the peace of the snowfall yes-- the mess of cleaning up after-- not so much. aio
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