One of my favorite things about winter–especially a good winter storm with substantial snowfall and a bit of wind–is that everything turns one shade of gray or another.

White on white on gray.
Picnic Point: white on white on gray.
The Ox, also monochromatic.
The Ox, also monochromatic with the crew docks for a bit of color.

Just like a good fog, it makes the entire world look soft and new and interesting. And so I rode the long way (or at least a little longer) home so that I could make fresh tracks in the snow, look at the frozen lake, and enjoy the solitude of a heavy snowfall hissing down.

And then I rode home and shoveled the driveway and sidewalks–which is really just another way of being in the snow (In-der-Shnee-sein…pace Heidegger).

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