far too much writing, far too many photos

Tuesday: all day long, beginning well before dawn, the local wet-blankets in the weather-forecasting biz warned of coming snow, of possibly impressive accumulations. Arriving during the night, assuring we’d have some kind of surprise waiting for us the following morning. And when I stepped out into the quiet darkness the next a.m. — up far, far too early, getting the day blearily underway — I found about half an inch on the ground and more coming down, blown by a frigid winter wind.

Half an inch: normal for this time of the year here. Most years, anywhere from one-half to two inches arrives at some point in October, melts away within a day or two, paves the way emotionally for the opening volleys of winter’s bona fide assault weeks later. That long, long winter.

Driving into Montpelier, a car ahead of me that had spent the night out in the elements — somewhere north of here where a bunch more snow apparently came down — shed chunks of crusty whiteness, pieces flying up into the air, splitting apart, disappearing into early morning darkness. At the gym, coat racks lightly used for months were suddenly stuffed with winter gear.

It tapered off for a while during the morning, reasserted itself around midday, quickly bringing white-out conditions. Temperatures in the mid-30’s guaranteed that accumulations remained minimal. Still, when I woke up this morning, two inches of snow covered everything. By mid-afternoon, spare sunlight had cleared big swaths of grass and roads lay clear.

Snow. Two days before Halloween. Had me thinking about leaving a brief, despairing poem about it on my answering machine instead of the usual efficient outgoing message. (I restrained myself.)

Twice during the afternoon, a sizeable pack of wild turkeys moved through the yard and around the house, foraging. Good-sized birds, not skinny or haggard looking. Could be that the arrival of this weather might mean the beginning of harder times for them, which might explain why critters as shy as they started hanging around the house.

And tomorrow: Halloween. I haven’t paid a whole lot of attention to this slow-building holiday hooha this time around, but it’ll be fun to go into town and watch all the activity — families out, kids in costumes, little hands carrying bags of booty. (As opposed to boo-tay, which would be difficult to stuff into most bags.) So that’s where I’ll be, meeting a friend who’ll be visiting for the weekend.

Anyway. Later.

EspaƱa, te echo de menos

4 Responses to “the first volley”

  1. Tiffany

    Just found your blog via blog explosion. Love your photography. I’m trying to learn more about it since I just got a new SLR camera. Thanks for the inspiration!

  2. rws

    you are extremely kind, tiffany. :)

    have a great time getting to know the new camera — i look forward to seeing what the two of you produce.

  3. Carina

    these photos are beautiful! The one with the house I find powerful and the one with the black birds a bit scary…

  4. rws

    the small house is actually a writer’s cabin, belonging to a neighbor. the birds are the wild turkeys mentioned in this entry — maybe looking a little scary because the photo is a bit blurry and dark. in real life, they’re too goofy looking to be scary. :)

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