A Dusting of Snow
A dusting of snow. That's something we've heard this winter — because along with the foot-plus of the white stuff "Snochi" brought us — and the two inches or six inches or (add your total here) we received in December, January and February, we've also had our fair share of dustings.
It's hard not to think of confectioner's sugar in these instances, sifting it onto a pound cake or sheet cake or, as I've done once or twice when ambitious, stenciling a design of powdered sugar.
The snow-dusted yard is still itself. The tufted grass, the untended garden, the fallen log, the bare patches — these are not obliterated as with heavier snow fall. They are highlighted, accentuated.
But they are also beautified. In all their imperfections.
It's hard not to think of confectioner's sugar in these instances, sifting it onto a pound cake or sheet cake or, as I've done once or twice when ambitious, stenciling a design of powdered sugar.
The snow-dusted yard is still itself. The tufted grass, the untended garden, the fallen log, the bare patches — these are not obliterated as with heavier snow fall. They are highlighted, accentuated.
But they are also beautified. In all their imperfections.
Labels: snow
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