If you've ever made apple crisp the old fashioned way, before food coop hippies invented the rolled oats variety, you know what the snow in our driveway is like. You take cold butter and cut it with a knife into the flour, cinnamon and nutmeg until it looks like sand. That's the snow. As we wade through it to the car, I think of apple crisp.
I love snow, really, I can't get enough until about the Ides of March. Then, enough already. But right now it is lovely. Lily comes in from each romp with white muzzle and snow up to her belly on all four legs. The floors are a mess. Our heaters are loaded with warming boots, mittens and hats.
The birds are very absent. I keep the feeders free of snow so they can come and dine. I hope they made it through the blizzard.