What could be more cheerful than a crabapple tree full of reindeer on the morning before Christmas? The reindeer are in threes, a number dear to my heart.
Several inches of snow fell overnight, and most of today will be spent clearing white stuff from the threshold, the walkway in front of the house and the driveway. First I will clear snow from the deck and the steps down into the sleeping garden and excavate a track around the yard for Beau.
At the moment the stairs down to the garden cannot be seen, and my companion is up to his tummy in snow whenever he goes out. He is not a happy camper. It is still dark outside, and it will be for some time, so our snow clearing will have to wait for an hour or two. First, a fragrant mug of coffee to get us going...
On such mornings, my neighbours are out moving snow too, and we call greetings to each other as we work. The first intrepid souls to finish their own exercises simply pick up their equipment and move on to assist whoever is still beavering away. It takes a village (or at least a block) to move this much white stuff out of the way, and move it we do, working together and happy to be doing so.
Why are there so few words in the English language for snow? The Yupik tribes of Siberia have forty or so, and the dialects spoken by the indigenous peoples of Canada's far north have at least fifty. Surely we can do better.
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