As I awoke, right away I could feel something wasn't right. There was no familiar blip...blip...blip...emanating from the fence charger as it performed its constant watch. In fact, there was no noise at all, save the occasional grunt from Boo lying next to me and deep in the 'Zzz' zone. So what was it? I began to notice a peculiar 'light' coming from beyond the gate - a particular 'lightness' that should not have been present so early in the morning - and my body came to full attention. Had an alien craft landed outside the barn? And then it hit me - there was no blip because there was no electricity...and it was so light because it had SNOWED. Oy. Again. Were I a penguin or a husky, I might have been able to work up a little enthusiasm. As it was, all I could think of was how much I so wasn't going to like this.
Now before retiring last night, the goatmother diligently checked the weather forecast. After all, it was snowing just a little, ever-so-tiny bit. Afterward, off she went to bed secure in the knowledge that only a 'trace' to less than one inch of accumulation might be possible. No sweat. I mean it's been 40 degrees in the day, and besides, we have the ducks. Remember the ducks? The seasonally-challenged ones?
Now you know, 'trace' is one of those odd words in the English language. Synonyms for it might be things like ' a ghost', 'a hair', an intimation, a soupçon, if you will. But you see, 'trace' is also one of those words that exists within a bit of a subjective spin. I mean, is the glass half full or half empty? You tell me. It all depends on just exactly whose 'trace' we're talking about.
Such was the case last night, for what you see below is the 'trace' of snow which arrived here overnight. If you ask the swing in the picture, its glass might be just a 'trace' more than half full.
And the bird bath might be willing to tell you that it is just a 'trace' fuller than usual.
And the mountains might just have the merest 'trace' of an in-your-face attitude about the whole thing.
And some of us might have a 'trace' of reluctance to go out in their trace.
At any rate, it has happened so often this year that I can only say, " I've grown accustomed to the trace, Of something in the air, Accustomed to her face." - Alan Jay Lerner, American Lyricist. It all leaves me with just a 'trace' of indigestion. "At least it's pretty", she said with a 'trace' of Oy.