Well, my worry that there might not be another snow to enjoy (prompted, no doubt, by the 60 degree weather we had on Wednesday and Thursday) turned out to be completely unwarranted. We woke yesterday to that thickly insulated quiet that sounds just like snow. And so it was.
Kato, being the early riser amongst our troops, got the first look out the front window.
As excited as he appears to be here, when asked if he wanted to go out in the snow, he demurred, insisting that he be fed first. Four breakfasts later (eggs, cereal, yogurt, cereal), Alden finally woke up. We heard her shout from her room “It’s snowing! It’s snowing!” before running out into the main room. After looking out the front window herself, she also demanded food, and also packed away several breakfasts before feeling ready to face the day. There must be something about snow that makes us Behr/Swansons want to pack in the food and get ready to hibernate (though I think the Behr half of the equation can take most of the credit on this one).
By the time everyone was ready to head out into the snow, it had stopped snowing, walks were shoveled, and it seemed perfectly civilized outside. I suggested a walk to the park to make a snowman. Enthusiasm ensued.
Unfortunately, the park is two whole blocks away. After a block and a half, Kato was already complaining about the cold.
And by “complaining” I mean “crying.”
Alden found a particularly deep patch of snow, blown across an empty lot and into a low spot, and tried to encourage Kato to come join her.
When you’re waist high to a grasshopper, three inches of snow is quite deep.
Kato continued to “complain.”
Alden reported that all that stomping in the snow had gotten her pants wet. She was no longer enamored of stomping in the snow.
Baby August, as always, was just kind of disinterested.
It seemed that the only one at all enthusiastic about this whole excursion was Iggy.
And by “enthusiastic” I mean “completely hopped up on snow crack.”
And I mean completely.
She ran back and forth, to and fro, around and around, and
Weimaraners are supposed to be water dogs. What little interest Iggy has in the water is more than amply made up for by her zeal for snow. Perhaps she was meant for the snow fields of Norway. She does look perfectly at home in the stuff.
Well, no amount of unadulterated joy on Iggy’s part could drown out Kato’s crying.
And then Alden revealed that she really had to go to the bathroom.
A block and a half into our expedition, we were done. It was like climbing Mt. Everest and giving up on the car ride to the airport.
And so I said we could head back home. Though Kato didn’t stop crying, I did sense that August perked up a bit at the idea.
He was probably ready to get out of his warm yet totally restrictive snowgear.
And by “ready” I mean “really anxious to.”
It turns out velcro is a formidable opponent.
Lots and lots of tugging ensued.
So much tugging, in fact, that he tugged himself right over.
Though I told him to “get up and be a man” and “fight the good fight” I couldn’t get him to rally. He just lay there, face down on the floor in defeat. It looks like we all have our own Everests to climb (and car trips to the airport during which to capitulate). Thank god we have Iggy to show us the way through the snow.