Now that we're well into an early-March melt and the subsequent shedding of handknits, I'm feeling a bit nostalgic about new snow. We do get a good view of it on the terrace from our windows at our temporary condo home...
but (brace yourself for words you would never expect to hear) it is tough to beat the view over the garbage cans at the side of our house:
The little ripples are from squirrels running over the fence top, and the steam is coming out of our neighbour's dryer vent pipe thing. Very atmospheric, wouldn't you say?
I deliberately left one can with an untouched lid so we could measure how much snow we got over a series of relentless falls:
Not as much as other people got in other parts of the east coast, but eventually, it was almost as much as the height of the can itself.
Brief aside: the cans have really been catching my attention lately. One day last fall I saw them clustered at the side door and imagined they were about to ring the bell demanding repayment of an under the table loan...
Obviously all the packing, planning, and sink tap choosing is getting to me. Also I am feeling a bit wistful about garbage cans as well as snow, because at the condo it's garbage bags and they go down a chute. A tri-sorter chute for organic waste, recycling, and minimal amounts of landfill! but without cans or the thrill of balancing said cans on a snowy curb.
Boy, this is quite a knitting post today! Garbage cans and snow. Let's elevate the conversation a little with this homey view:
I have gazed out at these trees for 18 years and this is absolutely their loveliest mood. You can just make out how they protect the roof of our garage, too, by how much heavier the snow layer is on the side facing away from them.
Commuting through snow is very much not my favourite thing, and I know it's caused a lot of hardship for a lot of people this year especially, but when you get to stay inside with tea and knitting - man is snow pretty.