Snow, snow, snow.

It started snowing at about 10 this morning. Big, fat, slow drifty flakes that settled on the ground and disappeared into nothing a few moments later. Sunset-splashed house finches and stripy sparrows fluttered and chirped around our cylinder bird feeders, competing for the black niger seeds. On the garden soil below them hopped and scrambled chubby, tri-colored Oregon juncos and a pair of busy, orange-eyed rufous towhees.

All of the birds, their minds on brunch, totally ignored the snowflakes.

It’s 3:30 p.m. now. The snowflakes stuck and layered. We have 6 inches of pristine white snow coating the world outside. The temperature has gone up a few degrees so it’s starting to melt a little, but it’s beautifully still out there, save for the sound of drips and the long, sudden shhhhhhh of snow as it slides in clumps off the tree branches. The birds have settled in beneath the snow roofs to roost, their small bellies full of seeds.

It’s lovely to have snow again. It won’t be around long; tomorrow is forecast to be a bit warmer, with no precipitation, so most of it will melt away. But while it’s here I’m enjoying it, glad I got my errands and appointments done yesterday. I don’t have to drive anywhere. I just feed the woodstove and think about making a pot of hot soup for supper tonight. I took a loaf of garlic-potato bread out of the freezer; I’ll toast it in slabs under the broiler to go with the soup.

My knuckles and fingers ache, but they’ve been worse. I’ll just count my blessings. There’s nothing like snow on a gray mid-winter day to bring home to me how lucky I am. I have a warm house, plenty of food, and a family that enjoys the snow and the quiet as much as I do. My daughter even got to take a snow day today, coming home early from work before the roads became impassible. Her eyes sparkling, she said it’s like a gift of time, a free run of hours during which she doesn’t have to do anything.

She graduates from college with a bachelors degree in business administration and marketing at the end of this month. After a few months off she’ll start on her master’s. She already has an associate’s degree in graphic design; she’s a talented and very creative artist. And I’m a very proud mum. She’s amazing, my wee elf-child who’s grown into a smart, beautiful, kind young woman.

She’s throwing snowballs for the dog and giggling when he leaps to catch them, chomping and spraying snow from both sides of his mouth. He lands in the snow, turns and waits for her to throw another, a wide doggy-smile on his foxy face.

Will I complain today about my rheuma? No. I’m smiling.