First Snow

First snow flakes – angel-feather
innocence falling from heaven –
soften me with their gentleness,
the sincerity of their efforts to erase
the blemishes of my imperfect world.

Part of a poem I wrote long ago. Here's the link, if you wish to read it all.

Good morning everyone! We’ve a white world this morning. After living for months in a dry and thirsty land, all the rain we never got since July arrived yesterday as fine, wet snow. Started falling in the night Saturday and snowed all day yesterday. No angle feathers, this stuff, heavy and wet. Daytime temps hover just above freezing, which means it’s perfect weather for building snowmen. Those of us who grumbled about the dust clouds lingering over all the country roads are cheering now. Our cats are dismayed, disgruntled and depressed.

As I’ve written before, I was putting out water basins for the wild creatures and they were getting emptied — often licked right dry — in the evening or night. I saw a doe and fawn working at one the other morning. Also we’ve had a flock of sharp-tailed grouse scuttle through the yard now and then; one morning I counted twenty. They were circling my small water basins, trying to get a sip, which wasn’t easy for almost a dozen plump birds. Check this site for photos. And the sparrows are always with us.

We’ve had a bit of shadow over our congregation, as one of our senior members passed away Oct 6th. At age 76 I’d call Ralph a senior, but he didn’t see it that way. He was still “in harness” working as a trucker, mostly hauling grain to the Saskatoon AgPro terminal. He was pulling in with his load of grain when he suddenly slumped over behind the wheel and was gone. No previous heart trouble. We had the funeral Oct 12th and it was huge: he was from a large family and had many friends, so there were almost 500 people. Our church isn’t that big so the congregation rented a tent to hold the overflow.

The day after Ralph’s funeral Bob found an obit in the Moose Jaw paper: Ruth N, his cousin and my old school friend, died of cancer. We’d long ago lost touch, but Ruth was barely a year older than I — which was rather depressing. And yet more sadness: Oct 14th a minister and wife from Manitoba (ages 72 + 69) were killed in a car accident. His brother-in-law and two nephews & families from here attended the funeral yesterday. The folks at the senior’s home listened to the streamed service.

I must communicate with the Happiness Engineers at WordPress and see what they can do so that I can freely post again. I’ve left this too long, hoping it’d blow over, but it makes blogging no fun. Yesterday I couldn’t post anything myself. Thankfully my dear hubby discovered a round-about way, but just clicking on my link, my blog still wants to regard me as a visitor. I had to log in this morning to respond to comments — and couldn’t LIKE any of them without using this round-about way. And I don’t have an EDIT button. 😦

Anyway, thanks to each of you for reading my ramblings and following this blog. I wish you all a good week. Hope we can all accomplish some worthy goals before the weekend rolls around again. 🙂

Image by Jill Wellington — Pixabay

7 thoughts on “First Snow

  1. That is a beautiful poem. I feel that way about snow, too, and it looks like we’ll get flurries this coming Thursday for which Bear and I will dance to the best of our ability and according to our lights. I’m very sorry for your losses. I don’t know what’s “senior” any more. I realized that — at my age — there are things I don’t want to do any more like leave this valley. I’m old. what if I miss something important like the cranes or the wind or the colors of the sky? I seriously surprise myself that I don’t value people more. I don’t know how to feel about that.


    1. I wish you the kind of gentle snow we’ve had; it’s settled on the land evenly and sunk in.
      Our cranes came later this year. A week ago I stepped outside and saw a huge flock circling over our trailer. Watched them for awhile and they just circled, probably wondering what happened to that slough in the nearby pasture where they usually stop.
      I’ve become rather reclusive myself, I fear. I don’t communicate with others as often as I used to, consequently don’t think of others as often as I could, or should. And perhaps other people’s issues and woes seem harder to handle as we get older?

      Liked by 1 person

      1. I don’t know — I think, for me, we go along as what we know and are used to until something shifts (where? what?) and (in my case) we wake up to the fact that our time is a lot more precious than we ever realized. But that happened once before in my life and I wasn’t 70. I was 40 something. So maybe it is age, maybe it is just realizing that some roads end. All I know is that our personalities are not static and, thank God, we do learn a little something from time to time.

        Liked by 1 person

      2. I think what woke me up lately was going to get my flu shot and seeing all the old people in that room and realizing that I’m one too. In the eyes of the people administering the shots, I was just another old lady who needed the big flu shot instead of the “normal” one. They didn’t even ask. Many of the people in there were older than — or appeared older than — I am, but that’s not really relevant at a certain point.

        “Wherefore I perceive that there is nothing better, than that a man should rejoice in his own works; for that is his portion: for who shall bring him to see what shall be after him?” Ecclesiastes 3:22


  2. I so enjoyed reading your poem.

    It’s been many years since we saw snow here and I quite miss it!

    So sad to hear of Ralph’s sudden death, although I can’t help thinking that when my time comes I hope I depart without suffering or being a burden for some time.

    As for WordPress, I often wonder if I should revert to Blogger which I always found far easier to use!

    Liked by 1 person

    1. I’m glad you enjoyed my little verse. I’d miss snow, too, if we didn’t have it — partly because this land would blow away!

      Ralph’s wife told us that he was really dreading winter — so now he’s spared that. Also, he feared having a stroke or cancer, being incapacitated. What’s really interesting is that his daughter & family were on their way up from their home in Texas, planning to celebrate Thanksgiving with her folks, when he died. So there wasn’t a scrambling to make travel arrangements. His other children are local.


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