We've had notice for two days. The pantry is stocked, the bird feeders are full, and the command was given: pick up your yard toys or they will be buried till spring. The snow is coming. Now we wait.
The deer are hunkered down next to fallen trees in the ravine behind my house. They know. So do the birds, who have been feeding all day. The evening sky is strangely pink, reflecting the lights of the city in the low clouds above. I am ready to retire; when I arise the snow will be here.
Copyright kittycooks, December 23, 2009 25 degrees.