It was snowing when I went to bed last night, so this morning I stopped by the kitchen window to see how much had fallen.
Two inches blanketed the ground, a white fluffy comforter covering green lawns and leftover leaves that fell too late for mulching or raking.
Chickadees darted from the cedar tree to the feeder and back. My dogs, Cabela and Ziva, stood by the backdoor, waiting to go out. I thought about which earrings I’d wear today. But dogs first, earrings second.
Ten years ago, I bought these earrings at a bead shop in Duluth, Minnesota. Today I chose them to compliment the new snow and the gray clouds rolling overhead.
If I were a child, I would’ve skipped the earrings. I would’ve bundled myself in snow pants, mittens, boots, a jacket, and a hat.
I would’ve built a snowman,
Wrapped a scarf around his neck,
Stuck two sticks in his midsection for arms,
Pilfered charcoal from the garage for his eyes,
Called through the backdoor for my mother to bring a carrot for his nose,
Placed an old hat on his head.
I would’ve looked at the snowman,
Talked to him,
Wishing him to come to life.
Today I had a cup of coffee then selected a pair of earrings to wear to the grocery store.