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I've come to a conclusion: the older you get, the cuter snow ain't.
A 2.5 hour drive home on Wednesday, complete with numerous near-injury (and possible near-death) experiences has biased this viewpoint, and perhaps rightfully so. But even taking that away, there has been little fun about the snow this year.
Until today. I took a walk on one of the well-traveled trails that I tend to hit from March through November with regularity. The trip wasn't terribly hard considering the snow I had to trudge through. The biggest threat was the falling ice that has clung to the trees for four days and was finally pried loose from an afternoon of sun.
That said, the trip was still tiring. Tiring as hell, really. I was panting fairly hard come the last stretch which I accurately predicted was going to be full of deep drops into slushy, cold, snow-covered water. I stopped for a while, hydrated myself for the last stretch, and looked behind me to see this formation of clouds.
Had I not been tired and in need of a break, I certainly would have missed this. We'll see if my pending sore legs tomorrow will be worth it.