Hello, when did we move to Snoqualmie Summit?

That's a ski resort, Snoqualmie Summit. And now I feel that I truly live there. This is a picture of the thermometer outside our window. I say, "Phooey! You have succumbed!"

The snow has been doing odd things all day.

We woke up and both stared out the window. I said, "It's snowing"

My man said, "No, it's simply floating off our roof in the wind."

I said, "No, it's actually snowing. Hand me my glasses. Here are yours, put them on."

And then, armed with glasses, we "argued" more.

"Snowing"

"No, drifting."

I finally stood up and opened the window wide.

The wind and snow came rushing in. Think "Owl at Home"(where the kindly owl invites winter into his house to "warm up" with him).

My man said, "That's the wind, it is!"

I pulled on my jammie pants and ran outside.


My horse's stall was white as well, in gusty patterns. He does not mind, he has two winter blankets.

Definitely not just wind, but this was odd. It was a fine powder, that was actually honestly coming down from clouds above, but also whipping us south with the direction of the gusts.

The snow on our lawn began to look like an angry ocean. The angry Pacific. I have not forgotten. Only the colors were different. These were waves of white powder, almost so fine as to be smoke. Not as high as the Pacific's waves, but similar in pattern.

The mighty "Pacific" would roll its strength on our back yard, and big waves would start to roll over the ground. Like, actual snowy waves. And some would join the sky.

I ran back inside.

Out front, our car was completely free of accumulation. What, how's that? It's been snowing all day! Well, the other side of the car was an igloo. Just the top was blasted by wind, and the snow could not settle all day. This is a whole 'nother snow experience for me.






I have never seen gusts of snow since my attempts at skiing. (I cannot ski nor snowboard, it's too scary fast for me.) We did not create them, the wind did. We shovelled, and noticed the wind shovelling for us.

Baasha's tracks headed out of the stall, and then quickly back in.

I called "ROOM SERVICE!" and brought a huge bag of bedding. He loved it. He pawed and played, like, "This is all I have. My whole world has shrunk."

Then I pat him on the nose and he nickered at me. But, disturbingly, it was the nicker of a boy to a girl. Or a friend to a friend, I don't know. It worries me that Baasha might be going cabin fever jacknicholson crazy. He's talking to me like I'm another horse. I made him back up, and rubbed under his blanket, but he kept with the soft nickers. Scary in their allure. I'm your PERSON!

30 minutes later room service arrived with the bucket he'd been waiting for, nickering for. It's all good. A warm mash of beet pulp and corn and chopped carrots.



Now, let the storm push the plantlife, we are safe inside. All of us.












Our front door. So brave!