Snow globes remind me of my Grandma Neelly. She didn't travel a great deal. But, when she did, she'd raid the souvenir shops for snow globes or crinkly neon-colored coin purses showing the Grand Canyon or some other American landmark. She was a classy woman, but you couldn't tell it from her souvenir choices.
Yesterday, instead of Empire State Buildings or the White House, the cows and calves in the heifer lot and in the pasture south of the house were the the figures catching the snowflakes' descent.
But then, as I returned to the house to make dinner, flashes of red darted through the snowscape scene in my backyard.
After patiently sitting on the back steps, trying not to make any sudden movements, I captured a few photos of our backyard troubadours.
After many other days when my efforts were less successful, I was pretty excited.
But it was my reliable "models" who were most ready for their close-ups.
It's rare that snow falls in Kansas without a gusting wind on the side.
|I think 002 has the sweetest face!|
I wonder if the snow loves the trees and fields that it kisses them so gently?
And then it covers them up snug, you know,
with a white quilt.
And perhaps it says, "Go to sleep, darlings,
till the summer comes again."
-- Lewis Carroll
Snow blobs and softens the top of every object like cream on a plum pudding.
Hedges, telephone wires, cars, postboxes ... The world is losing its edges.
Look upwards and it seems as if the stars themselves are being poured from the sky and turn out not to be vast and fiery globes after all ...
... but tiny, frozen things which melt in the palm of your hand.