Well just to prove that I lived in California for too long… Just a few days ago, we were covered in snow. In fact, I got some pretty amazing pictures and had a sort of one with nature moment, not having been in real snow since I was a kid. It was magical in a way.
So magical in fact, that the next day I was anxious to get back over to the park to have more magic moments with the snow, the park and my camera. Small detail – the snow had turned to rain and when it hit the snow well it became this beautiful glassy icy thing. I was fearless however, having braved the snow and having learned how to dress in this weather – though not fashionable (to say the least) I learned that layers are the solution to the cold, especially when you really don’t have the proper snow gear at your disposal.
And off I went, bundled in my snow weather layers, my camera in pocket and my coffee mug in hand. My goal was to walk a mere 50 or so yards across the street to the park. I started across the parking lot and though there was a sign on the door that read, ‘be careful, icy and slippery,’ I saw that the salt boys had been out sprinkling and shoveling and all looked well. I was but mere steps to the street and I felt a little imbalance. “No,” thought I, “I’m not really going to fall…” My arms did that special flap that human bodies often do when they are about to land on their ass and down I went. Coffee went up and I went down. Why does it always work that way?
Bonk went my ass and head to pavement. “This ain’t good,” I thought dazedly.
“Are you okay?” I heard someone call out.
Lying flat on my back I looked over to see a man in a nice overcoat and boots looking at me. My first focus was on the fact that I lost my coffee. Really a pisser when it is your first cup and it’s oozing all over the icy pavement. “Yeah,” I muttered, wondering how the hell to get off the slippery landscape without looking like a fool. I quickly realized I wasn’t going to avoid the looking like a fool thing, so I flipped over on my stomach and I kid you not, crawled on all fours to the safety of the non-icy portion of the pavement. Finally I managed to my feet and had a conversation with the overcoated man, although I can’t really say what we talked about. Probably about what a graceful woman I am or something like that. He was nice enough to retrieve my travel mug for me and off he went.
Still undaunted and feeling kind of stubborn, I decided that if I couldn’t get to the park that I would take photos right there in the parking lot. I wandered around in a daze but stil found a good shot of the lamp posts which were eerily irridescant and sparkly with icycles. But the stars dancing before my eyes interupted with my photo plans and I hobbled to the building and went inside.
The man was sympathetic about my little adventure and I napped a lot that day. No real injuries since all I hit was my ass and my head which are both equally hard – but then I realized that somewhere in the scuffle I lost my glove. Not an expensive one, just one I really happened to like. A cute little knit number with fake fur on the cuff. I’m still looking for that damn glove. I just can’t let it go. Consequently, whenever I go out anywhere I find gloves – just not mine. What’s up with that?
I’m hoping sometime during the Spring melt that my glove will miraculously appear, while a small choir of angels sing. Yeah, right. I gotta say I am loving winter here.