Last week we had a late winter snowstorm. Although we were expecting 5-8 inches, previous predictions all fell short of the threatened accumulation so work opened on time and I drove in. Within minutes of arriving in West Virginia the snow started to fall furiously and we closed the office. I made the 45 mile drive home in just under 2 hours and pried my white knuckles off the steering wheel. The schools had closed that day and the military base where my husband was working also closed early.
We piled into the truck and headed to Fuller Lake for a beautiful snowy hike. The snow was about a foot deep out in the mountains. My stepson, my husband and I were the only ones out and about and it was so beautiful. So quiet. You could hear chipmunks in the distance and the creek trickling where not frozen over.
I quickly learned that trying to knock snow from the branches down your husband’s back only works when your husband is NOT your absolute soulmate. We both lunged for the same tree at the same time and would have both got doused but we made eye contact and decided it would not be a good idea. My husband took off at a run to race us back to the truck and his son quickly tried to catch up. I think he thought it was a football match because he pushed passed his dad and in doing so sort of body slammed his dad face first into a foot or more of snow. Being the good wife I strive so hard to be, I doubled over in hysterics and nearly peed my pants.
It was a beautiful afternoon.