Black creek

The snow glows as it falls. Today it’s soft and thick but sometimes it’s thin and pointy and dry like a skinny man with wispy hair and a trying argument that swirls in circles, stinging me. My dog twirls in circles just before he poops and he clusters all four paws together as though he’s balancing on a ball. Around and around until it comes out. The snow keeps coming, covering it all.

Back to work tomorrow.

Why does the creek look so dark today when it is surrounded by white? Snow blossoms drench the trees. Snow splatters their trunks. Snow toques cap dead thistle prickles and tall wild oats bow under a load of snow. Exploded milkweed seed pods fill up and serve cold hors d’oeuvres. All is calm. All is white. Except the creek.

Back to work tomorrow. Back to the drone of the white noise-maker. Back to mumbles and clacking keyboards, to hurried words spilling onto the screen. An endless stream.

When snow falls so fast and thick I can’t believe it will get old and crusty, wrecked with salt and sand and magic blue crystals that melt the snow but give my dog cancer of tongue and paw. He wears boots that everyone comments on: “Aww. She’s so cute with her little booties.” Never mind that she’s a he. Because he’s small and white and with me they assume he must be a girl otherwise why would I dress him so foolishly? He licks and he licks and he licks those blue crystals like a crack addict. They might kill him you know, because of the snow.

Low snow clouds puff around my boots with each step. We’re the first to walk here this morning. Snow pills pile on his curly furry legs and soon he looks like he’s wearing snow pants. He shoves his snout into the bank, snorting, and backs out with his black nose freckled with white flakes, his eyebrows caked giving him a low brow look.

Back to work tomorrow. High heels will tap down the hall. Chop chop choppy steps. My skirt will be too tight. My bum will ache from sitting too much. My glasses will reflect too many e-mails to answer.

Swish go my snow pants but my footsteps are silent. I feel airy like I might float away. The snow is loose and soft and my strides are, too. I glide.

Back to work tomorrow.



21 thoughts on “Black creek

  1. jbbluesman January 3, 2016 / 4:20 pm

    It finally arrived and thanks for letting us know in your creative fashion, beautiful as always! 😉


    • Susanne January 4, 2016 / 6:38 pm

      Happy birthday, Jean. I got yours today!


  2. J.B. Whitmore January 3, 2016 / 4:52 pm

    Wear you comfiest shoes tomorrow — just because. Or maybe, it will be a snow day! Lovely images.


  3. Cynthia Jobin January 3, 2016 / 10:21 pm

    Oh yes, no matter how lovely the images, “it’s back to work tomorrow.” How well I remember that apprehension, which I called the Sunday Evening Ennui. I’m so glad I don’t have to do that anymore… one of the perks of being old and retired!


    • Susanne January 4, 2016 / 6:37 pm

      I survived, although I’m almost ready for bed. Lucky you to be retired, Cynthia.


  4. Donna Gwinnell Lambo-Weidner January 4, 2016 / 6:25 pm

    Lovely flow to this piece. Your imagery always makes me smile, and saying “Snow toques cap dead thistle prickles” three times fast was fun today too.


    • Susanne January 4, 2016 / 6:36 pm

      Ha ha! Donna, you always make me giggle!


  5. D. Wallace Peach January 8, 2016 / 8:53 pm

    This was really beautiful and engrossing. I like the juxtaposition of the controlled mechanical corporate world and the untamed world of snow and water. Black and white. Well done.


    • Susanne January 9, 2016 / 6:33 pm

      Thank you, D. I was off work for 16 days. It was really hard to go back. I loved my early morning walks with the dog, poking along a path that follows a local creek. So calm.

      Liked by 1 person

  6. Rosanna January 12, 2016 / 1:07 am

    I’ve never experienced snow…you make it sound both lovely and scary. Lovely for me, scary for my canine companions.

    Either way, I loved reading this post. A worthwhile substitute for the actual experience of snow falling on my head.

    Lovely as always, Susanne. I missed your reading your posts…Oh, the travails of trying to get back in track in the blogosphere….

    One day you should hold writing classes…You’re a natural…


    • Susanne January 12, 2016 / 6:08 pm

      Awww. You say the nicest things, Rosanna and it is so great to see you here again! I struggle with blogging and have not been as consistent as in the past. I’m trying to find things other than my family to write about (they protest I invade their privacy) so I’m kind of floundering. I’m also writing more privately trying intermittently and half-heartedly to navigate unknown publishing territory. But the best thing about blogging is it keeps me writing and honestly, I write for completely selfish reasons. To have readers is a happy, happy bonus.


  7. dawnkinster January 12, 2016 / 7:12 am

    We’re getting our first real snow this morning. A couple inches of fluffy clean white. I want to take the dog for a walk. But she has a groomer appointment. She will be so disappointed. And I don’t want to make you feel bad…but I retired…so no back to work for me. It’s a wonderful thing.


    • Susanne January 12, 2016 / 6:09 pm

      My husband is newly retired and I’m still trying to get over being jealous! I hope there’s still fluffy clean snow for you to romp with your beautiful Collie tomorrow. Think how pretty she’ll look!


  8. exiledprospero January 14, 2016 / 11:58 am

    I never snows in Bermuda, so I’m trying to explain to Ariel what it’s all about. I read your piece aloud for the benefit of her frilly ears and realized just how beautiful it was–as pure as the snow I’m trying to have her imagine.


    • Susanne January 14, 2016 / 12:13 pm

      Of course you have a dog named Ariel – or a pet of some kind with frilly ears! I’m in love with snow this winter. It came very late for use and when it did it came in 30 centimeters – a wonderful big dump. I was afraid we’d have a yucky drab winter but nature has rescued us from rain!


  9. hilarycustancegreen January 21, 2016 / 1:54 am

    This is very moving and evocative. It totally absorbed me while I was reading it.


    • Susanne January 21, 2016 / 7:06 pm

      Thanks, Hilary. It was one of those perfect snowy mornings, everything fresh and bright AND my last day of vacation before going back to work. The latter being not so perfect.


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