Praise then darkness, and creation unfinished

I just shoveled the sidewalk, and a path down the driveway to the back stairs. I was shoveling a mix of ice and slush, rather than snow. We didn't get anything like the foot of snow that was in some of the forecasts--it looks as though Route 128 really was the line between heavy snow and only a few inches.

That's not walking, but it is cardio exercise, and I am noting it down as such.

I just went for a walk in the season's first snowfall, while snow was still drifting down. I slipped and fell once, got up, brushed myself off, and kept going. I think what I tripped on was the place where there stops being a sidewalk on that side of the street.

It was a nice day for a walk, temperature around freezing and plenty of light through the clouds.

We (including Arlington, Somerville, Cambridge, and Belmont) had the season's first significant snowfall this afternoon.* It started to snow while I was in Arlington; by the time the 77 bus was in Cambridge, it was snowing steadily, large flakes. It was still snowing when the bus got to Harvard Square, so I decided I should stop at Lizzy's for ice cream.**

I got a "chocolate orgy" cone, and a quart of black raspberry ice cream to take home with me.

The snow didn't stick, but walking from the bus to my apartment I had a snowflake land in my mouth, and stood for a minute to watch the snow fall.

I complain about being cold, but that's at least as much about my wonky internal thermometer*** as about the outside temperature. I will get tired of snow by midwinter, but right now I'm saying "it's a nice day" about clouds, snow, and 34F, which cattitude finds absurd.

*I noticed a very few snowflakes in Belmont earlier this month.

**This is how my brain works; I realize this may be unusual.

***This has been going on for years and seems unrelated to menopause.

Meanwhile, our friends at the National Weather Service note that not only was the last snow in Central Park back in April, and that this is the first December without a flurry since 1877.

Montreal showed me just enough snow--a centimeter or two fallen a day before I arrived--to look like winter, though the Montrealers wonder where their winter is, too.

I have been out in the park, in the snow. They've brought a snowplow through, so we were able to do a lot of it on relatively easy paths, but the big fluffy flakes of overnight and early morning have been replaced by lots of small flakes, which stung when they blew in my face.

Technically, this is an exception to the rule that I should go outside every day: there's still a blizzard warning up. (The other exceptions are hurricane, significant illness, or levels of really cold that don't apply here, only when I'm visiting papersky and family in Montreal.) But once my legs and face warm up, and I've had a mug of tea, I think I'll feel better for it.

The large dogs are enjoying themselves immensely; the small dogs are overwhelmed. Children are out sledding, and I expect more will emerge as the day goes on, especially if it stops snowing during daylight.