As I embark on this adventure of weathering winter as, I suppose, it is intended to be, I am realizing that so far I have a decidedly conflicted relationship with the snow. I resent the way in which it hinders transportation and spontaneous outdoor excursions . . . yet I find it hauntingly, inspiringly beautiful.
This evening, for instance, I stopped on my way into the library, awed by the apparent ice-sculpture of a snowman that was in the neighboring yard. So when I walked into the library, instead of doing anything library-appropriate, I blurted out a query as to the creators of the stunning snowman outside. The librarian was confused as to the snowman itself, but she did say that she assumed it had been constructed by the children who had, in fact, just been in that same library shortly before I was. I took this apparent familiarity as a bit of a photographic go-ahead, so here he is, in his icy loveliness.
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