The snow has so many scents. I know them because, as a child, I spent hours upon hours sitting in a big snowbank that the plow pushed up at the end of our long driveway. As I slid or dug or built, I breathed the smell of snow, and I learned the way they changed with the temperature and humidity. It seemed to me these smells told stories. I did not fully understand stories, but I thought I could pick up on their shape, color, and texture.
As an adult, when I open the back door, and the scents of snow rush in, I feel that I am greeting a familiar character. I am so grateful that we have snow piles at the end of our driveway where our children can dig and slide. I hope they are learning the language of snow.
I was just cleaning out the inbox on my computer and found your email about the blog. I think we were heading off on a trip when I first got it. I'm so glad you're doing this! Such wonderful little snippets of your life. I haven't read them all yet, but I will. Keep writing!!
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