My last post was on the small amount of snow that we had and how the local weatherman made a big deal out of it. Well, this time I'm making a big deal out of it. When I woke up this morning, we had twelve inches of snow. After the snow finally ended, the ruler I held measured seventeen inches. I know some of you who live in the north may not think this is much snow, but this is the most our small town has had in over twenty years. Definitely the most I've seen since I've lived here and that has been a little over ten years.
You would think that this would make a good day for staying indoors and writing, but, no. For me, it was a day of watching the snow and the scenery unfold. From dark clouds in the distance over the Blue Ridge to whiteout conditions where nothing could be seen for more than a few feet, it made for a day of contemplation and daydreaming. Come to think of it, it was a good day for planning scenes for future books--if only I could remember things that long.
It will be another few days before we dig ourselves out of the snow and clear our 800-foot driveway and see civilization again. Hopefully in that time, I can come up with scenes for my next Rachel Christie mystery.
