Just in time for travel, a winter storm trudged across northern Michigan, dropping inches of mashed potatoes. I peeked out our bedroom window earlier to spy on the boys, and I am convinced they are as happy about the snow as we are, wet and lumpy as it is.
Taking their cue, I slogged through drifts up to my knees for about 40 minutes before lunch, snapping photos of high-piled branches. Heavy trees overhung normally clear paths through the woods, making a usually brief journey not brief at all. More trees are down, and I suspect more will fall in the intense winds over the next 24 hours. Standing amidst the tall trees as the gusts flung snow from their limbs, I felt like a mere mortal among Ice Giants.
Our little snow blower prefers powdery lake effect, and simply refused to chug through the heavy, wet mess. The shovel remains undaunted, though its engine was weary before the driveway was clear. Thank goodness we aren’t relying on the little GTI today; the snowy roads are simply stacked too high.
Perhaps a snow plow will come. Either way, I think we’re going to have a white Christmas. In northern Michigan. If I don’t see you before then, Merry Christmas, Everyone! (If you don’t celebrate Christmas, just have a wonderful day!)