Quieted by a layer of white stuff - the roads roll out in front of the car - beckoning slower forward movement as you look for moving wildlife and the interesting white on black etchings on the passing trees.
The roads getting more frequent visitors have miniature lanes cleared. Each one wide enough for two tires traveling in a line. They remind me of lazy mornings after the snow fell, asking Dad if it was OK to just clean enough snow for the car's tires to back out of the drive. The answer? No, every time.
Plows haven't passed through yet - so the snow-blowing tires move the flakes into mounds on either side of the tire line. Where were those people going, I wonder.
Were they just out for a morning jaunt to look at the snowscapes?
Maybe a Dad and son searching for hot chocolate and a box of doughnuts?
Perhaps a driver out to see the world before the sun and wind change into something more abstract?
These kind of snowy Saturdays are perfect ones in which to think in a way much different than the thoughts of summer. It's quiet - a good time to gather thoughts, appreciate the beauty, and then make a path that is all your own.
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