It snowed at my house last night. That is a BIG deal for a few reasons:
- It's late winter in my part of Virginia and this is our first measurable snowfall. (Measurable = it at least skims the end of a ruler that's resting flush with the earth.)
- Youngest Child's faith in Old Man Winter is restored.
- I need closure on winter before I am emotionally ready for spring, and in my mind, winter is not complete without at least one snowfall. (I'm strange.)
- I can now participate in the upcoming spring season, without regret.
- There was tremendous photo opportunity during Jon Farleigh and Dewi's snow romp this morning.
|The beginnings of a snow romp. Picture quality: Meh.|
So now that I've cleared that up for you, allow me to drill that last bullet point down a little deeper.
About a split second after I snapped that picture up there (despite the blinding glare from the snow), I saw the "light" (shining on my bad camera angle) and decided that (in order to get the best shots of the dogs - with which to impart cheer on my awesome readers) I'd have to get down on their level (in the snow) to take them.
|Same shot as above, different angle. Picture quality: Relatively, not bad.|
Unfortunately, I was still wearing my paper-thin flannel pajama pants.
But being the
lazy determined person I am, I decided (not to risk losing the shots in order to go inside and put on some jeans, but) to just squat down as low as possible (without toppling over on my practically exposed a**).
I'm pretty sure I made the right call.
And I didn't even topple over.
In fact, it wan't until about 129 shots later, when Jon Farleigh decided to lie down in a muddy puddle of slush and eat (most likely deer poop), that I noticed my butt was numb and I was decidedly light-headed (which is what happens when one squats down in snow with one's butt on a lower plane than one's knees, until the blood flow is completely cut off from one's brain).
|Jon Farleigh (left): Having a deer popsicle|
Me (behind the camera): Realizing my rear is a popsicle
So I decided it was time to take the dogs back inside the house.
And I wished (nearly as hard as one might wish for a gas station when one is driving on fumes) that my knees were 10 years younger and actually capable of hoisting my ice-chest-of-a-butt back into the upright position - so I could walk (and not crawl - with my not-waterproof camera - in my pajama pants - through the frozen slush - to my patio - where I could grab hold of a concrete wall and drag myself upright) back into my house.
The next few seconds (or minutes, I don't really know) are a blur, but somehow I managed to remember from my one physics class (or the hazardous weather section of online defensive driving school that I might have just completed) that the best way to dislodge a car (analogous to my butt, of course) from a snow bank is to "rock" it back and forth. So I planted one gloved hand in the snow for balance and proceeded to swing my frozen butt like a pendulum until its sheer momentum caused my rubbery legs to unfurl behind it. I was so elated to be standing again that I didn't even care that I'd half-mooned the driver of a passing service van.
And then I fetched the dogs and we went inside to get warm.
A little while later, as I sat down at the computer to upload all the photos I'd just taken, I became overly aware of the blood circulating in my previously frozen extremities. You know...like when a limb gets all tingly after it's fallen asleep?
And the insides of my ears were oddly itchy.
But aren't these pictures lovely?
You know I like you, right?
'Til tomorrow, friends!