Working in the snow

This afternoon my Dad and I braved the cold, wet November weather to prepare the yard for winter.  He and Mom had been away most of the autumn on tour and unable to work much on our property.  I have been too busy during the day, only arriving at home after dark when it is a wee bit too difficult to do yardwork.  So we took advantage of the few daylight hours we had before winter snows come.  Our goal was to do as much as we could to remove the millions of leaves from our lawn.  We donned our scarves, hats, and gloves and dared to brave the cold thirty-degree wind all for the sake of an easier spring clean up.

We worked outside for about 15 minutes when tiny, round balls of snow began falling gently around us.  The balls began gradually growing larger, the wind blowing harder.  We continued working.  My jeans became soaked on one side where the wind was blowing and my fingers grew cold through my damp gloves.  Then the balls became large flakes that landed softly as the wind abated.  We continued working.  We only had so much daylight before winter weather arrived full force.  At this point I expected my pleasant attitude to take cues from my body and gradually grow cold.  It didn’t.  The longer we worked outside, the higher my spirits rose until we finished most of the raking that needed to be done and Dad declared, “Let’s go inside.”

I don’t know what made working in wet, freezing conditions so delightful.  Perhaps it was the purpose that motivated my spirits.  Perhaps it was the time I was able to spend working with my Dad.  Perhaps it was just the cake I enjoyed at church this morning.    Whatever the reason, I came inside feeling … accomplished, somehow.