Winter Has Arrived

This morning I awoke to an indoor temperature of 47 degrees and two inches of snow outside. Wind howled through the still-bright leaves and I leapt from bed godspeed, certain it was now or never. Bow saw and buckets in tow, I headed straight for the woodpile, where a stack of long, dried sticks awaited downsizing. Ninety minutes later, I’d cut five buckets of kindling, hauled three sacs of wood to the mudroom, and safely driven my car down the mountain to the paved road.

As I hiked back up, I couldn’t help but notice the brilliant colors of the leaves crushed beneath the snow. In some places, my boots had kicked up the snow and mud blotched out the brightness. But in others, fall colors bloomed beneath the powder fresh snow, rioting in a cacophony of color amidst all the bluster. Before dusting off my boots to go inside, I lifted my gaze to the tree tops and delighted in the vision of gold and maple-red leaves shaking in the breeze, little shakes of snow falling down.

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