Walk in the snow

Yesterday I got out for a couple of walks in the snow. I thought about taking the truck but I was just going around my neighborhood and I didn't see the need to burn the gas.  I was glad I walked, because I saw things I would have missed. It was as Frost said, I took the road less travelled by, and that has made all the difference.  For some reason I was thinking that Walt Whitman said wrote that , silyl me.  Regardless, it was absolutely beautiful out in the snow. Mesta Park and Heritage Hills are lovely neighborhoods on a regular day, snow makes it art.

Some of the the art was based on nature and some was because of man. I found some flowers covered in snow, lilacs and daffodils. The robins were NOT enjoying the snow, they don't like to move but it allows you to get close to them.  The homes were a treat as well. Beyond the fact that they are great looking houses, the snow changes everything. Some looked like paintings, with lights reflecting in the wet streets. Some looked like gingerbread homes, others like "grandma's houses."

I used to think I was a pretty good writer, but I'm resigned to the knowledge that on my best day I'm a bit above average. I wish I had the vocabulary to adequately describe my journey through the snow and convey all beautiful images. I'm a pretty good photographer, but there is no way I can show you what it looked like watching snow blowing off the roofs, one shot can't capture the rolling, swirling cloud of sparkling crystals dancing on the air.  And there's now way I can convey the feelings, the peace, the wonder, gratitude of being there in that place and time.