Looking forward to snow

Yes, it's true. I want snow.

I have been coming around to fall as my life heads in that direction itself. There is nothing more deeply, brilliantly azure than the afternoon sky of a fall day in Western Pennsylvania.

The reds and golds of dying leaves are even more vivid for having, as they assemble in a flyaway carpet on the ground, the rich smell of cinnamon and nutmeg.

The slanting light of a low sun warms less powerfully than the rays of mid July, yet the light feels just as good on your skin.

All that said, I am lookig forward to the quiet of snow. I want how it muffles sound and sparkles in the sunlight. I want it because the noise of the snowplows is a background hum, like the buzz of a lawnmower on a summer afternoon.

Right now, now, my back yard is decorated with leaves. The pin oak on the slope likes to hold to a few, even, through the winter, and sprinkle them down in the spring. They get raked up a few times in the fall and dumped under the rhododendrons. In the spring, they get raked into the garden beds and blanketed with mulch.

I like the contrast of the gold and brown leaves against the grass, still green. And I enjoy kicking my feet through piles of leaves, listening to them rustle. Twist has been known to fearlessly wade into a pile of leaves and jump five feet in the air because something in said pile startled her greyhound brain. Snow never startles her though. She loves it an dives right in.

The leaf-filled picture is from the park by my house.

And yes, shortly after first snow, I will be looking forward to spring.