There’s a lot of weight stressing those branches. Falling limbs through the night had the power flickering. We were lucky, though, the lines kept running.
It’s pretty but also heavy, wet, dense — you much prefer the lighter, fluffy stuff when it comes to shoveling. Still, you can’t help but admire it as the sunlight starts strumming through the branches.
We’ve had several rounds of flurries before this, when some of the neighboring towns found their ground covered. Real snow, in my book, means digging out the driveway.
I like having the raised garden beds covered by a blanket of snow, especially when the thermometer plummets. The wrought-iron love seat by the bushes is one way I easily calculate the depth of our snowfall. I’m wondering how soon before it’s completely buried.
Jnana's Red Barn 