There is a sound to snow; a scrunch underfoot that changes tone and pitch as the temperature rises and falls. Sometimes, one can actually feel the sound vibrating in one’s ears, especially while wandering beneath a polar vortex. Air is light as snowflakes drift and breath hangs mid-sentence, waiting for the conductor to change the tempo of the song.
Mid-afternoon, a mission in errands at hand, the garage door creaked open, and I scrunched my way along a shoveled path, opened the car door, turned on the “machine”, and slowly backed out at an angle to right my sight in a forward direction, which is when I sensed movement in the periphery of my vision.
Doe. A deer. A female deer, dancing in the sun. A female deer dances not in the sun if it is a mere 8°F – unless there is a dancing partner, and there was. I stopped the car, mid-turn, alerted Tom via cell phone, for such a performance must be shared, and there we were, slowly scrunching about, capturing an aria in this bleak midwinter, music in the snow. Do click on the photos.