Snow

Snow has come again to Plymouth. Like the last time (which was about a month and a half ago), it hasn't quite managed to stick to the ground yet (it's also only been falling for the last hour and a half) which is okay by me. It is however starting to accumulate on the tops of some cars and on the wooden fire escape outside my window and our front door.

I watch this snow slightly terrified of what it means. My roommate, the meteorologist in training says that we could get one or two inches by the end of the weekend, and Wednesday could mean 10-15 more inches. Still lacking in experience behind the wheel, the prospect of driving around in this weather is quite frightening, not that walking is much of a comfort.

Still, amidst this terror I cannot help but enjoy the view. The leaves have long since abandoned their posts on spry tree limbs and have even been robbed of their supposed final resting place on the ground as maintenance crews have cleared most away for reasons I probably may not understand for a while. The New England world and we poor reactionary inhabitants have prepared for snow for weeks now, surrounded by what appears to nature languishing in death without the protective bandage of frozen white water particles.

So perhaps now it may actually start to look like a world at sleep outside my window, with the stubborn coniferous trees pulling their green coats closer about them, vowing that the cold and snow would not be enough to send them into hibernation. I actually have a photo project that I have in mind, which requires a decent level of snow on the ground, so that might be a slight positive as well.

And I think here is where I will end. I've vowed to make cookies this weekend and the dishes need to be washed. Oddly enough, my friend Ryan just informed me that making cookies was highly appropriate because his mother would bake him cookies whenever he shoveled his front walkway. It made the house warm, smell good, and it was a nice thank you present. Cookies it shall be.