I woke late this morning (really one morning a couple of weeks ago) and looked out to see a dog dancing around on some white stuff. It took a moment to realize the white stuff was snow. I dressed, took my camera, and headed out to document the event.
The first time I saw snow I was five years old. Dr. Luckett was at the house to see my mother, who’d come down with the flu. My father asked if he could wrap me up and take me outside, but the doctor said no, it wouldn’t be a good idea. I spent most of October through April with a chronic sinus infection, tonsillitis, and a raging fever, and going out into the cold might start things up again.
I haven’t seen much snow since. In 1985, I believe it was, fifty miles south of Austin, we ended up with about twelve inches of snow packed and iced over. I felt so sorry for the cardinals swooping down and finding nothing to eat that I threw an entire box of Bran Buds across the ice. Tramp, my terrier, walked around licking up the cereal while I called to him to stop that. His Sweet Babboo, the neighbors’ pit bull, Becky, stood beside me on the porch, wishing she could lick the yard, too. When you told Becky not to do something, she obeyed, mostly. Tramp did pretty much as he pleased.
Cardinals’ beaks might not be designed to eat Bran Buds, but I didn’t think about that. My beak isn’t designed to eat them either.
In 2000, David and I spent Christmas in Maryland, and I learned what it felt like to walk through the woods, kicking my way through white powder. It was beautiful.
It was still snowing when I got outside that morning but the white stuff was quickly turning to slush, and before I could get back inside, what had started as flakes sifting onto my hair turned into wet plops.
But here is one little event of Austin in January 2021.
A good ice storm is prettier than snow, much more impressive, but I don’t think I’ve seen one of those since the ’70s when I had four impacted wisdom teeth removed, and I could have done without it then.
7 thoughts on “White Stuff”
I’m sorry, but there’s no such thing as a good ice storm. Those are all bad! Wires come down and people lose power, you can’t drive on the stuff, you can sled or make a snowman. I’ll take snow any day. LOVE your pictures!
I’ve never had an ice storm where wires came down, That wouldn’t be good. And we didn’t drive anywhere anyway. And the ice melted before long. The ice I don’t like is the kind you can’t see. I slid off the road on some of that and had to walk across the highway and confess to my father the car was in the ditch pointing toward Luling. Just after I’d told him I could get to San Marcos just fine, don’t worry. He drove on ice in Northern Europe and knew what he was doing–like 50 miles an hour is not slow–and then I had to walk up College Hill by myself. And cross the Quad, where you could see the sheet of ice. That was worse that sliding off the road.
That kind you can’t see on the road is called “black ice” and it’s very, very bad! Glad you made it there, back then, anyway!
I was fortunate. I just swirled around and went sideways and down a bit into tall Johnson grass. I was driving a 1960-something station wagon, sort of a bus. While I was opening the door, which I was pleased I could open, a car came whizzing by, a bunch of boys I was sure were on their way to college, too. And all I could think was–if I’d left home a few seconds later, they’d have run right into me.
[cid:81a36128-c903-481b-977a-f37349c4d6bf] Mariana ________________________________
I wish I’d been awake earlier, before things began to melt. I spent Christmas 1983 in a snow-covered Houston. Water lines froze. That morning, smoke began to pour from the house behind my cousin’s. Her teenaged boys grabbed their Christmas-gift fire extinguishers and ran. The FD came but couldn’t enter because of the Beware the Dog (mastiff) sign on the front door. They found the smoke coming from the utility box on the side of the house, and the dog in the back yard, and the child and the elderly woman who lived there were away, so all was well. Except that the owner drove in from his job at a hospital and was mad to find firemen all over this property and the people who had called them standing around concerned about those possibly at risk. A memorable Christmas on several levels.
Thanks. One of the few times I thought to get out the camera. Most of my photos are of cats. They rarely do anything interesting, but they’re cat and deserve to be shot. Sometimes without a camera. (William is enjoying the results of his dental work and has resumed biting me, as he did when a kitten. Puncture wounds. Since his teeth were cleaned, I haven’t had to see the doctor for antibiotics; neosporin has taken care of it. I’ve told him it’s rude, but he hasn’t stopped.
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