December 1 and everybody’s snowed in except Dean Peters

It started last night.  A wide swath of sleety snow blew out of the southwest and whomped us upside the earmuffs.  This morning there was a good six inches of the stuff on the deck and it’s still coming down.  The ski resorts are happy, except that no one can get to them because the roads are a mess.  At least I imagine they’re a mess.  I can’t get out of my driveway until Dale Reedy gets here to plow me out.  OK, I could shovel myself out, but I’m not going to. 

All I accomplished this morning was to lose my dogs and get my boots full of snow when I went out for the paper.  I didn’t really expect to find it, but Dean Peters is a phenomenon.  His tracks were the only ones on the road, and my Record-Eagle was nestled in its green tube.  The power is still on and I have that fine supply of kindling I told you about yesterday, so I read the news over a cup of coffee and ate breakfast in front of the fire.  Life is good.  Snowy, but good.

Miss Sadie and the Cowboy were giddy at dawn.  C’mon, let’s go!  Time’s a-wasting!  They tumbled down the stairs and lit out for the woods—in opposite directions so I wouldn’t know which way to chase first—looking for adventure.  I gather they didn’t find it, because they were back pretty quick, pretending they had just that minute heard me calling them.  Cowboy spent the rest of the morning chewing the ice balls off his toes.  Serves him right. 

In honor of the snow day, I decided to change the Torch Lake Views banner.  Here, for the amusement of snowbirds and California relatives, are more snapshots of the day so far . . .

Writing Studio and Bait Shop December 1, 2008

Mss Sadie loves snow

The Cowboy accumulating snowballs

How long do you suppose it'll be until the power goes out?

This beech tree apparently aspires to be an oak.

Update: After I finished this I visited some “Neighbors around the Bay” and particularly enjoyed today’s post on The Leland Report, where Keith Burnham reminds us it’s “Only 21 days until winter . . . “