I was perfectly content to watch the snow from the inside of my home last night even though I bemoaned my lack of desire to get out and play in it – build a snowman, throw some snowballs, gather some fresh snow for ice-cream. When did I outgrow that passion to experience such rarities in Mississippi?
And yet, Rebel, Lucky and even CC (crazy cat) were jumping up and down with excitement about the strange goings on outside. So I got on three layers of clothes and ventured out with my curious pack of canine and cat children.
What I discovered was a surreal silence and peacefulness I had no right to experience after such a miserable day.
We lost four good friends yesterday. Frances Hill gently slipped away after a three-year battle with cancer. My friend Price Caldwell died of leukemia, and Bo Haynes – known far and wide as “the Chicken Man” because of his long association with the poultry industry and poultry science department at MSU also passed away.. Then before the day ended Henry Pilkington who I always admired and respected passed.
The silence and peacefulness was somehow appropriate as I thought of my friends. Not a car passed as we slogged down the street through what I would guess was three inches of snow. It didn’t take long for my companions to decide they’d had enough of this strange accumulation, and we turned back toward home.
And surprise, surprise, my son Braddock had texted me a photo of his snowman which in the failing light looked at little like his Golden Retriever, Sally. Maybe he will carry on with the snow frolicking I’ve always been known for.
But wait. Today before I go to work I’m going out to make a snowman. I am.