That glorious white stuff

It's -1.6 C, but I could swear I hear a bird chirping in the soft stillness of that snow-blanketed world outside my window.  Poor thing

I feel like I've never experienced snow before now, despite my Midwest upbringing.  Or maybe I've just forgotten what it's like to have to dig out the car and shovel the walk and drive on packed snow and totally bundle up every time you put a toe outside.  And the ways that glasses fog up when you come inside and extremities tingle as they warm up.  It's amazing that I don't want to go outside and sled, but not surprising that my real desire is to build a snow thing. Sadly the snow is too dry to permit me.  I wonder what Andy Goldsworthy would do with it?  If it sits long enough, it compacts to light block, with a fine texture, perfect for carving or stacking.
It's not so great for shoveling or pulling down from the roof.  Although the roof apparently can handle up to 10 meters of snow, it is reaching that point, and neighbors are climbing ladders to
remove it.  I cannot do that, but I did wobble on a step ladder, hefting a rake or a hoe, slamming it into the snow, and pulling down chunks.  A fine feathery layer topped the mass. That scraped off easily. Then came the compacted snow, which broke into large chunks or imprisoned the tines.  I couldn't jerk at the rake, for fear of falling, so I wriggled it loose and tried again from a side angle.  The most I could manage to clear was the area around the gutters. The uneven edges and layering looked like a monochrome Grand Canyon along the eaves.

Later, the snow on the eaves that I could not reach achieved rounded overhanging swirls and swoops. Very O'Keeffe.

Everything is white on white on white.  The branches are so coated with snow they don't show as black or dark green:  they show frosty where they aren't totally covered up.  The short trees and stumps look like trolls.  The birches are huge feathery fans, with golden-orange lichen coating the white trunks.  One day the trees were limned with crystalline hoarfrost. It's so very beautiful.
The fields are smooth sparkles of meringue or white boiled frosting, draped over the landscape.  Once in awhile you can see tracks from skis or snowshoes or hares, but mainly it's a smooth gleaming white surface.  Unreal.
 

The light is subtle and the tones so delicate it's hard to capture them.T Sunset looks like sunrise in its soft colors.  Moonset is opalescent.

 The snow is very deep, and when it started to melt in between storms there were these huge clumps left in the trees, looking like giant impaled snowballs. Another day the tiny branches were so coated in snow they looked like antlers in velvet.

The days are lengthening, but still pretty short. The sun rises while I'm tutoring between 8 and 9 am, and sunset starts around 3:30. In between, I take my walks, shovel the snow, and do some housework.  I find that the short days are not depressing:  I like having my physical work limited by the light, and I like watching the light change. It just seems right that I am here.