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I woke up to Melody's alarm and snuck a peak out the window toward our backyard where a small layer of fresh powder perched atop the trampoline. "Yeah," muttering, stinky breath, "Looks like a few inches from last night.. you can wake me if you need help getting out," back to snoozing. Moments later, I found our car hibernating in 6 inches of snow with more coming down. Santiago, our '95 Saturn, has taken us many places and 10,000s of miles across the Wild West. His current role is that of ferrying us between jobs and the grocery store- a bit more domestic but still a challenge over icy roads.
Our generous neighbor met us to help clear the driveway for Melody to get to work, and we spent the first part of the morning shoveling the rest of the snow from both of our pathways. Our trusty steed started up, "Let's go Santi!", and my sweetheart off for the day. Hi-fives all around!
"What time do you leave for work?"
"About eight o'clock, after I get a little rinse."
"I can drive you!" Kind neighbor.
"I really appreciate that! To be honest though, these are my favorite conditions for a morning jog."
And truly, running is magic, both carnal and metaphysical. The gods run in their own realm, and I imagine that they must make it snow to multiply their enjoyment to the nth power.
Nighttime snowfall brings its own fortunate complications to the morning. The difference between sidewalks cleared, uncleared, and everything in between is usually an indication of property lines. But it was far too early for most residents to have shoveled their concrete pathways, and my 1.5 miles to work felt about twice that, high knees pumping up and down like pistons in wintry combustion. For the purpose of my routine, I almost wish they would leave the snow in its place, but I'll be sure to get my fill as I pass through areas of abandoned lots and neglectful businesses who will let the snow accumulate throughout the winter.
This storm came after a week of dreadful pollution. The inversion forced most into a temporarily sedative lifestyle, unless one was lucky enough to escape to the canyons where blue skies and clean air reign. These canyon trails are packed down with hikers' footsteps and fat-wheeled bicycles. No, cold will not keep us penned in for long. 30 degrees feels like summer and a coat promotes far too much perspiration. 10 degrees is about where the air begins to cut inward to the core of me, so I layer up and give my lungs a few moments to acclimate to the dry air.
Cold-tide, we weren't fooled in September when you claimed the tops of tall peaks, and we knew your mock presentation wouldn't stick around long the following month. You took the leaves from the trees, but I knew you'd be off to some part of the north to regroup, leaving facets to decorate the valley floor. However, your pre-Thanksgiving falling got the best of my sentiments and I'd hoped you would stick around.. shame on you. Gone, gone, off to some part of the Midwest, treacherous tease. I'd nearly given up after the past, gloomy week, but you returned at the last tolerable moment and you are welcome.
It is winter and I am thankful for that.
-Grasshopper
Our generous neighbor met us to help clear the driveway for Melody to get to work, and we spent the first part of the morning shoveling the rest of the snow from both of our pathways. Our trusty steed started up, "Let's go Santi!", and my sweetheart off for the day. Hi-fives all around!
"What time do you leave for work?"
"About eight o'clock, after I get a little rinse."
"I can drive you!" Kind neighbor.
"I really appreciate that! To be honest though, these are my favorite conditions for a morning jog."
And truly, running is magic, both carnal and metaphysical. The gods run in their own realm, and I imagine that they must make it snow to multiply their enjoyment to the nth power.
This storm came after a week of dreadful pollution. The inversion forced most into a temporarily sedative lifestyle, unless one was lucky enough to escape to the canyons where blue skies and clean air reign. These canyon trails are packed down with hikers' footsteps and fat-wheeled bicycles. No, cold will not keep us penned in for long. 30 degrees feels like summer and a coat promotes far too much perspiration. 10 degrees is about where the air begins to cut inward to the core of me, so I layer up and give my lungs a few moments to acclimate to the dry air.
It is winter and I am thankful for that.
-Grasshopper
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