Where is Old Man Winter?
“The horses are blowing their coats,” a friend said yesterday.
Like much of the country, we’re having an usually warm – well, maybe “temperate” would be more accurate – winter. It’s caused the dust bunnies of dog hair to multiply in my house. Daffodils are peeking above ground like periscopes on the cabin’s rocky slope, as across the valley the snow-making machines hum through the night, trying to cover the ski slopes. I can almost hear the daffodils whispering to each other, “Is it safe to emerge?” I’ve watched them in previous springs as they inch up carefully, sometimes just the green tips showing under a blanket of spring snow.
Like most Welsh Springers, Alex and Baker love the snow. They stick their snouts in it until their faces look like powdered donuts. Then they jump for joy. And lie down on their backs and make snow angels. Or pretend they are otters, sliding sideways with their head on the ground.
As long as I don’t have to drive in it, I like snow too. Occasionally. Such as for the beautiful white Christmas we had in 2010. And one of the items on my “bucket list” is a dog sled ride through the snowy woods.
It’s February and we could still get walloped with snow, but the horses and dogs blowing their coats tells me not to worry. I’m sure they’ll be right.