We woke up to a few inches of snow Saturday morning.
It wasn't entirely a surprise, since driving home from the YMCA the night before was a bit like navigating the Millennium Falcon through hyperspace, with nothing visible out the windshield but huge snowflakes flying at us like stars and asteroids.
Snow has been such a rare occurrence this winter, I rushed outside to take pictures while C was cooking pancakes (I am a lucky girl) and, on the spur of the moment, I decided to walk our whole loop trail through the woods, which has been sadly neglected this snowless winter.
It turns out I wasn't the first one to track up the snow; some squirrels had been out and about already,
and a snowshoe hare.
It was one of those magical, mystical snows that frosts everything just enough to make the world look new again.
Even old familiar paths became inviting.
All morning, the blue sky and the clouds jostled each other for position.
And little black-caps worked their way through the treetops (sometimes even singing their springtime "fee-bee" song).
The river, which never froze up at all downstream was starting to break up upstream, too.
The pancakes were on plates by the time I got home,
and this was just the start of a lovely weekend.