The purity of the snow is something special.  Sometimes I wonder what people who  have never seen or experienced snow must think about it.  When it falls, when it covers the landscape, it does amazing things.  It can take a drab area and turn it into a wonderland. 

That wonderland exists in the Chicago suburbs today.  Last night, despite the pleas of my oldest son, I shoveled twice.  I just cannot help myself.  He had come over after a long day and wanted to put on the plow stored in my garage (after all, what are garages for, cars?) and had to go home since he was missing a part.  It was late and I felt for him and that eight mile drive home for the part.  As a father, I knew how tired he was, knew that with a small child at home that sleep was sometimes a luxury, and therefore I cleaned the drive despite his reminding me that the plow with truck could do its work.  My point was this, as dad I don’t want him to have one less minute for that needed rest.  So while he was driving, I went outside, pushed that fluffy stuff to the side and felt better.

As it happened, I did the second cleaning while he was finishing up the plow on the truck business.  He looked at me and said, “Do you realize how ridiculous what you are doing is?”  I did.  I also knew, that in the scheme of things, when Samantha grows up he will well be prone to do similar “ridiculous” things.

Early this morning, I woke up and looked out as I often do on the “snowstorm” days.  As it turns out, I have nothing to do.  So I am looking out of the large window we had installed on the front of our house and am sipping my coffee, watching the snow fall lightly, and writing in this blog.  I wonder where this day is going to take me?


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