The first real snow of winter is always magical. There seems to be a serenity about it.
This year is no different. The local reporters seemed to have little else to do after Black Friday than to warn of pending snowfall. Most of we locals get quite a kick out of the intensity of it all. After all this is north Idaho - a mere 90 miles from the Canadian border. Snow happens.
The birds were out en masse discovering freshly filled feeders. Bacchus smelled snow in the air. Boots were dug out, the snowblower filled with gas and the plow securely fastened to the tractor.
Morning dawned. The wind had stilled. By the time dog and I finished our walk, man of the house had only just begun...