What’s in pictures?

A few days ago, we had our first appreciable winter snow. This has really sucked for me and the Canada Goose.

For me, because I spend a good part of the winter writing posts about Northern Girls and Snow-hotties — aka men with shovels and snowblowers — in the Great White North. Can’t go for that. No can do. This year I would have to live in Texas or Washington State to do that.

For the Canada Goose, because she doesn’t know whether to fly south or head home, and keeps filing a short flight plan between here and the border, which just means more poop on the ground.

This is it. This is what we got.

I can still see the tires. Not really winter in the Great White North.

I can still see the rocks of doom. Not really winter in the Great White North.

The patio snow doesn’t reach the porch steps. Not really winter in the Great White North.

I can still see shiny. Not really winter in the Great White North.

This freakish snow — that’s what we’ll be calling it for months to come — of a few days ago is no longer with us.

The good thing is that while we had it, no goose poop on the ground.

Silver lining, baby.