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To wake to snow in Eugene is a marvel.
Unlike my previous life in the blizzards of New England, snow in the Pacific Northwest is a joy. There is something magical about it. Since it is such a rarity, there are no 5am snowplows. There are no sanding trucks. People slow down. They keep their cars parked and take to the streets on foot. Here, the gentle quiet that always accompanies a snowfall, that extra layer of sonic insulation, only partially muffles the wonder and joy of the people who experience it.
We began the day with a walk to the schoolyard where we unleashed the puppies and watched and romped with them through the snow. It was about three inches of soft, feathery snow that brought much joy to the puppies. They were soon coated with it, hopping like bunnies through the virgin white. We took them home, dried them off and gave them treats.
Dina running through the snow.
Then G and I hit the sidewalks and streets for more exploration. We experienced so much joy and happiness at this gift from the winter skies. Everyone was having a blast from folk just walking and riding bikes along the sidewalks to the teens practicing snowboarding on the playground hills to the kids trying to make the biggest snowballs ever.
People, not cars, own the middle of the street.
After a day of exploration, we retired to the homestead, I threw towels, soggy sweaters and the soiled comforter cover in the washer and we settled on the couch to enjoy a hot pot of jasmine tea in the form of a puppy pile. Four happy souls surrounded by the quiet of cushiony white. For now, at least.
And, as promised, a picture of Morgana sporting her new turtleneck (which became immensely soggy this morning).
Unlike my previous life in the blizzards of New England, snow in the Pacific Northwest is a joy. There is something magical about it. Since it is such a rarity, there are no 5am snowplows. There are no sanding trucks. People slow down. They keep their cars parked and take to the streets on foot. Here, the gentle quiet that always accompanies a snowfall, that extra layer of sonic insulation, only partially muffles the wonder and joy of the people who experience it.
We began the day with a walk to the schoolyard where we unleashed the puppies and watched and romped with them through the snow. It was about three inches of soft, feathery snow that brought much joy to the puppies. They were soon coated with it, hopping like bunnies through the virgin white. We took them home, dried them off and gave them treats.
Dina running through the snow.
Then G and I hit the sidewalks and streets for more exploration. We experienced so much joy and happiness at this gift from the winter skies. Everyone was having a blast from folk just walking and riding bikes along the sidewalks to the teens practicing snowboarding on the playground hills to the kids trying to make the biggest snowballs ever.
People, not cars, own the middle of the street.
After a day of exploration, we retired to the homestead, I threw towels, soggy sweaters and the soiled comforter cover in the washer and we settled on the couch to enjoy a hot pot of jasmine tea in the form of a puppy pile. Four happy souls surrounded by the quiet of cushiony white. For now, at least.
And, as promised, a picture of Morgana sporting her new turtleneck (which became immensely soggy this morning).