When we moved to Sonora last year in late April, we knew there would be snow in the wintertime. We had seen patches on the ground in March when we found our home. We had heard about the weekend last winter when the power went out and things shut down.
So we were delighted to see the snow that lasted a day or two around Thanksgiving. Ditto the two- or three-day cover that looked so festive at Christmas. Then came the storms. We've had several weeks of them now, one after another with several feet of snow on the ground. Yes, I got to make my first snow angel since when I was a child in Michigan. (And discovered that I had forgotten one fundamental instruction, both legs need to move! I saw later on the video that Mike made that my left leg had apparently not read the memo.)
It is beautiful. It is wondrous. And it's challenging. I fancy myself an introvert who can spend days on end with just my family, spending a certain amount of hours by myself in my office. But right now, I would love to see other faces. I long to engage in meaningless banter. I want to drive a car without worry and walk down a sidewalk.
Perhaps it also has to do with writing. I'm in wait mode. I want to hear my developmental editor has to say before moving forward. I'm trying to be patient. I'm attempting to learn a lesson from the past weeks, where I had heard from one of the two of my beta readers and jumped ahead without waiting to hear from everyone.
Outside I can hear a kindly neighbor plowing our road. The snow-laden branches of my writing tree beckon. Try another snow angel! Maybe this time, both legs will work. I turn on my heated mattress pad and focus again on the screen. I try to accept where I am in this time of unexpected snow, of hanging out, and letting go.