The white stuff

It's coming! It's coming! The snow is coming! So, the forecasters say. I guess we'll just have to wait and see. As such, the forecast so far is sleet, ice and six-to-eight inches of the fluffy white stuff.

We don't have a snow plow. We have a half-mile long gravel driveway in the middle of nowhere. I have an entire stash of firewood, plenty of hot chocolate and at least 3/4 of a bottle of good Irish whiskey for that hot chocolate. We have board games and card games, computer games and movies. Books and puzzles, art projects and Play-doh. I think we're set.

I almost want to be snowed in. It sounds like a fantastic way to spend a day with the family, trapped inside the house with the fireplace crackling, the snow outside falling and the wind blowing through the trees. I love the snow. I hate driving in the snow and I hate breaking ice in water buckets and picking chunks out with frozen, red fingers, picking snow balls out of horse hooves and wondering why I never bother to buy a decent pair of snow boots, but, I guess I don't have to worry so much about that this year. No horses. Next year though, it's something I'll gladly suffer through.

I miss my horse so much. I miss just smelling her and listening to her. I miss riding and grooming and picking out the stalls and just simply watching. She was my therapy, my confidante', my friend. No horse will ever take her place, but my heart is ready for another now.