Three days of steady snow, and huge white drifts crept up the back steps. I sank up to my knees just trying to go out and fill the birdfeeders. And the roads–ridiculous.
Driving to the store later that day, the lines on the highway had disappeared under the layers of tire-tracked white. Cars wandered out of their lanes and slid around bends. When I got home, I lunged for my easy chair and wanted to stay put. “I’ve had enough!”
I wasn’t relaxing in my comfy chair long before the dogs wanted to go out. Fortunately, all I had to do was open the back door and let them into the fenced yard. I stood waiting–with this miserable weather, it wouldn’t be long before they wanted in again.
But as I watched, the dogs didn’t just plod out and get to business. Ike stuck his nose in the fresh snow, and resurfaced with a Santa Claus beard. Kelly dashed through the deep snow in leaps and bounds, her ears flapping. They ran and chased.
Why had I imagined the experience like troops trudging off to a horrible fate?
Because that was my attitude, not theirs.
Time to take a lesson from the dogs!
I pulled on my boots and coat, grabbed a hat and went outside to join them. The scene that had looked so dreary from inside the house now appeared lovely–the trees hung with heavy icing and the yard took on a fantasy of marshmallow shapes.
The dogs happily romped up to me and begged me to play. We ran in circles leaving deep footprints (and paw prints) behind.
