The office cat loves snowy weather.  She sits at the window for hours, though not because she wants to play outside.  She’s there for the influx of wild birds drawn to the feeders.   Granted, the birds come other days, too, but just a few, now and then.  When snow blankets their world, hiding much of their usual scratching places on the ground in field and woodland, the birds head for the birdseed buffet hanging around the edge of the front porch.  And the cats head for the windows to watch the show.


This last batch of snow began early last Friday and continued all day.  By mid-afternoon, the land was well covered and so were the roads.   Within the shelter of the woods, the snowfall seemed gentle with an occasional gust of wind to stir the snowflakes.    Uphill to the east, at the top of the rise, no trees broke the force of the wind gusting across the field.  Up there, a fog of tiny snowflakes filled the air, diminishing visibility.


Since the Genius Husband was away and due to return to the farm that night, I thought it wise to drive around the neighborhood a bit to assess the road conditions.   Along the way, I stopped to admire this pretty little house.   It looks so picturesque, perched above acres of prairie pasture, framed by trees and low stone walls.


The snow fell faster as I neared home again, approaching this time from the west.  The wind picked up, and I could feel the temperature falling.  Snow drifted across the fields and into the road, hiding ruts and potholes.   Yet I stopped again to admire the scene before me, and I smiled.  I smiled because I love this place even in the deep chill of winter with snow blowing in my face and my fingers numb with cold.  Perhaps someday in the distant future, I’ll feel the urge to abandon this place in winter for the comfort of warm sandy beaches.   Not yet though, not for a very long time.