Fall is upon us and it’s getting colder at night. I now live in a more rural area of Washington state which, I’m told, gets snow from time to time. I’m looking forward to that experience. Some of the friends I’ve told about my desire for snow think I’m crazy, but I grew up in Wisconsin, which has cold, snowy winters and I miss the snow.
I remember sitting at my window during the day and watching the sun glisten off the newly fallen snow from the night before. I somehow found it comforting, maybe because I was in a warm house and didn’t have to go outside.
When we lived in Boise, Idaho there were times when we got snow, but it wasn’t the same. Maybe it had to do with the depth of the snow. In Wisconsin, it wasn’t unusual to get six foot drifts – great for flopping into and going home drenched.
As I sit and write this, however, it’s sunny and warm. This one of the last really warm days before the coolness of fall takes its turn.
Halloween decorations are up at the local grocery store, along with reminders to stock up on goodies to hand out to the ghouls and goblins that will be knocking on our door. This year we will likely have small, scary visitors, since we now live in a neighborhood.
This all came to mind when I sat to wonder what I might be doing if I still lived in Wisconsin. I have been a writer, in one form or another, all my life. I imagine that I would be stocking up my larder so I could stay inside and cozy up to my computer and try to write the next Great American Novel. Illusions of grandeur, I’m sure.
Truth is, I’ve always liked to write during the winter months. I even imagined sitting next to a fireplace, a comforting drink close by. Perhaps in a chair just made for napping as I contemplate the next paragraph.
Snow, particularly in drifts six feet high would complete this image nicely.
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