White

Yesterday, winter bowed and made its first appearance with a quiet steady salting of snow. Outside my windows the mountain was hidden behind a dense draping of white as though the world was inside a snow globe some giant shook and shook to obscure all with flying flakes.

The snow globe world outside my window this morning is quiet beneath a clear blue sky with a hint of blurry clouds on the mountain brightly lit with a blazing sun. Squirrels huddle on the ends of slender branches still as statues while clumps of snow fall into the silent street below. Water drips down outside my windows as the bright sun melts the frosting on the roof above me. The streets are nearly empty of all but a couple white mounded cars. Somewhere out there a metal shovel scrapes against a sidewalk, sometimes bumping and banging to loosen its heavy wet burden, as one early bird makes a path through the crystalline powdered white.