Today we got the most snow we’ve gotten all winter, right around the time I’ve begun to really, earnestly hope that winter’s through and done. It’s not.  Not even nearly, apparently. I tried walking the dogs like I do most mornings, but the snow was too deep and coming down too hard. It was making Roby’s face wet and cold, and she refused to do anything but stare in awe up at the white, snowy sky, crying when I tried to cover her or wipe away the moisture. A lady built for the cold, apparently. 

It’s good that she likes the cold, she lives in Vermont. Days like today, days on the mountain, days working outside, they’re her future, if she’s lucky and I am too. 

After my failed walk, we spent the day like most snow days, inside. We cooked some food, we watched a movie, I read a book while Roby napped on my chest. We stoked the fire, we did chores. 

It was a good day, and the snow’s not going anywhere.