When I was a kid, we had a big blizzard on December 24, which was forever after referred to as "The Blizzard of '82." It had seemed so epic then. The relatives that were supposed to come over for Christmas Eve couldn't make it (and I was very put out that we had gone to all the trouble of cleaning the house for no good reason), and my Grandpa had to come by the next day in his Suburban to take us to his house for Christmas Day.
So maybe my kids will always look back on The Blizzard of '13 as epic. Although snow is a much more regular occurrence around here (Maine) than it was there (Denver), and this year has been more notable for its lack of snow, so maybe they won't.
The snow started Friday morning and continued right through Saturday.
We went out into the midst of the storm Saturday afternoon.
Z throwing snow because he doesn't want his picture taken.
The river that was all black water last weekend. I wouldn't want to walk out on that snow to see if it froze back up.
It wasn't quite like in the Little House books, where Pa needs to hold onto a rope just to get to the barn without getting lost in the blizzard.
When we came back in, we made snow ice cream (yes, a departure from a plant-based diet, but I made up for it on Sunday with a coconut version I'll tell you about tomorrow).
We did get a good sixteen inches of light, fluffy snow in our front yard (not nearly as much as southern New England),
With thigh-deep drifts.
And, of course, mountain-high banks where C plowed.
I played some more with auto-focus
capturing winter weeds very close-up,
while the boys dug tunnels in a huge snowbank.
Sunday was an absolute perfect winter day––sunny, blue sky, no wind, lots of fresh snow and nowhere we had to be.
And a cozy front door to come home to when we needed a break from playing in the snow.