2023-11-18: blue-bright

fresh snow these last few days. i've been putting off getting a new snow shovel for years: first the blade bends, then snaps off. then the plastic slowly goes. a little bit each month. each winter i tell myself, i'll get a new shovel. i forget. i make do.

today i finally got a new shovel, and got my winter tires torqued, and did all kinds of little errands that started just after 8 and only finished by noon. then we bundled up, took the dogs for a long walk, the two of them bouncing through the fresh snow. my heart melts every time. my oldest will be 13 next year. he still does this.

through the slush and freshly-forming ice on the street, down the sidewalks, squinting at the too-bright sun and keeping an eye out for other dogs: our youngest emphatically an asshole. a pandemic puppy. he loves to bark.

around the townhouses that edge on to the nearby trails, around the terrible little park down the street, nothing but woodchips and the most meagre things for toddlers to climb on. then around the school, looping back home. a good walk: almost an hour. into the shower.

the rest of the day mostly unplanned, but i have ideas. music, some writing; my partner baking for a supper with friends tomorrow, and we're out later tonight for a concert. it's cold, but i have love. there's snow and ice, but warmth too: from my partner, from my two idiot dogs, from the mid-day sun causing everything to melt a bit and shine.