(So, you’re actually seeing this a few days after it happened. I guess telling you kind of defeats the purpose of pre-posting, but I felt dishonest not saying that.)
I leave the little big city at midnight because, as usual, that’s the time of day I get my shit together. I drive out of town and up up up into the mountains. Soon there is snow on the ground, a comforting blanket of ice crystals. THere are tracks in the road and I get out to look. Lynx? Why would a lynx cross the road? I wish I were one of those eole who can read thought and emotion in a track.
I drive down, down, down and the snow is gone. I miss it. It didn’t feel like winter at all, it felt like giving birth to something new. Soon I’m going up again and snow starts falling from the sky. I’m driving into it, it’s driving into me in that wierd optical illusion that happens with snow and headlights. I can get lost in the saces between me and snow, sometimes, but I don’t, I just drive.
This snow is special. It’s not like the snow you’ve got down in the lower forty eight. I just want y’all to know that. Our snow is crystalline and dry. It is not poofy crystals pregnant with wetness like the snow down there. You can not make a snow ball with it. If you tried it would slip through your hands like flour, like little individual crystals that don’t mind laying together but don’t want to become part of each other.
I stop when I find a pullout that I’ll be able to drive out of when I wake after a nights snow fall. I wind my scarf around my head and walk through the snow. It crunches and the earth is strong under my feet. But I want to get to bed while the van is still warm, so I hurry through letting Bro out to pee, changing clothes, etc., and climb into my warm bed with Bro.