Six Inches of Snow

I grew up outside Ludington Michigan. My parents owned property bounded by a creek, the river it emptied into, the rim of a woods, and a dirt road.  It was a beautiful and I would rather have my memories of that lovely place than almost other inheritance else I can think of.  A kid who knows what water sounds like as it babbles over her chilly barefoot feet, the power of storms in tall trees, the way it feels to make channels and rivers in a muddy driveway in the spring, waking up to a world embroidered with snow. She’s a lucky kid who becomes a lucky adult.

Yesterday it snowed six inches here in Waukesha and we woke up to a world embroidered with snow. 

Len and I drove out into it this morning.  I have another messy cold so my pockets were stocked with hankies and cough drops. But when the snow is like this, one can’t wait too long.

The snow on our garage first tnhing this morning.

We drove to Lapham Peak.

From the observation tower. 

You go to bed in one kind of a world and if it snows, you wake up in another.