First Snow

Yesterday, September 17th, I awoke to the sound of my teeth chattering as I tugged to free the comforter at the end of the bed tucked underneath two snoring dogs. Once my bones sufficiently warmed, I managed to poke a few parts out into the frigid room. Pat was already downstairs brewing a fresh pot of coffee, the comforting aroma making its way up the stairs and calling me out into the starkly cold day. Had I known the temperatures would drop this low overnight I might have put the heater on, but probably not. It just seems wrong this early in the season. But, this is Montana, a place that knows no rhyme or reason when it comes to weather.

Pat heard me stumbling around and hollered up that I might want to put on long johns. Instead, I pulled out my handy flannel-lined LL Bean jeans, a treasure found at a second-hand store for $7. They still had the tags attached. Second-hand, but first butt. That's a bargain.

The thermometer on the kitchen window read 34 degrees. I wondered if that meant outside or in. Checking the thermostat, I found that the inside temp was 58 degrees; I gave in and turned on the heat. But only for a short while.

I hurried to the barn worried that I would find the kittens huddled together shivering against the cold, damp morning. As I opened the door, out tumbled three fur balls, anxious for their breakfast and a chance to stretch their legs climbing up and down fences and scrambling to the top of the round bales. Before they took off exploring I picked each one up. They snuggled for a moment--purring, then struggled to free themselves as the day beckoned their attention. They were fine; Puff had done a great job keeping them close and warm throughout the night.

A few hours later I headed to town for groceries. The temperature hadn't changed, but the skies finally opened up as promised; and on September 17th, we received our first snow. All is well, and so it is.