Snow day

Sometimes, the weather is perfect. The crisp, cool air, perfectly warmed by the sun, breathes excitement into every flower, ant, and road trip. Grass shimmies in a kind of musical chorus line as grasshoppers suddenly reveal themselves and then disappear just as quickly. The bright blue sky, tinted with just a drop of yellow ochre from the turning leaves, bathes the world in an irreplaceable feeling of adventure.

Today was not one of those days. Snow, snow, snow, snow, ice . . . snow, snow, snow, snow, wind, snow. The trees are dead, stiff, spiky, antagonistic, and every other icky thing you can think of. There is no color besides white and gray.

Typically snow doesn't bother me. But I woke up today longing for an adventure. Now, adventures are difficult to find in the middle of Indiana on a sunny day so I guess you could call me an optimist for hoping for something exciting and out of the ordinary in the dead of winter. In fact, when I threw open my curtains this morning Mother Nature said: “In yo' face foo'.” (I hardly know why she chose to speak in white girl ebonics this morning, I only type the truth).

However, I had a change of heart when I let my dog out to do his morning business. As he bounded through the snow, stuck his face wildly into five feet of snow, ate the snow, drank the snow, peed in the snow—my entire life's ambition changed.

I'm going to grow-up to be a dog. Adventure shall never be denied again!