Three days of snow. The world shrinks to the view the windows provide. They seem to see the same thing everyday though and even less after sundown. The house becomes a microcosmic universe of a walled in reality. You shift from room to room as if opening the next door will grant you the sense of reprieve you seek. But it is lackluster at best and mostly reminds you of cleaning you have not done. The electronic windows to the greater world seem even more sterile and impossibly more remote.
The life of the icicles outside the window draw you in. They lengthen as the melt proceeds and if they can survive the day then the night will bring them the solidity they seek. Gravity will be their undoing soon.
The dog, having personally chased a stick for Moses, has no interest in the athleticism of following you and the child into the snow. She waits in the cleared areas while a desire burns in her to go and be with the pack. Her body does not relent and gets its stasis. She colors the snow along the paths with neon spots punctuated by black pinholes but the true enemy is browner against the snow.
The child does not at first want to go outside. She is in a glamorous haze of dull amusement from the TV. Her body has shifted down the front of the overstuffed chair toward the ground but by all appearances she has attained equilibrium. If I want her to engage this not less than monumental shift to the freezing outdoors it will take an enthusiasm that will not be denied. One that by mustering frightens even me. At first she takes little notice and who could be blamed for denying the bleating calls of the old man bearded cheerleader for outdoor activity?
But I am in full sales mode and she will be buying this lovely 2 hours of unhinged snow fun.

We are confronted by winter after leaving the yard. The house and environs are surfeit with snow but spared an incredible wind. As we move past the barn we can see low clouds of sparkling dust being shot across the road like white glitter. But seeing is not the same as being. We move toward being and the wind fulls you in its embrace instantly. Instinct turns your face away. But you turn slowly back. The drifts are taller than you. The child's voice normally resonant and uncluttered by lack of volume now sounds muffled and somewhat distant. You turn toward her for the parent child spatial relationship check. She is no different than you in her reaction. In her dimunition she is living in a very different wind blown world.
She has now fully embraced the moment. The world glows so brightly with wonder that she is reduced to screams of joy. Daddy! Daddy! Look over here! The phrase repeated over and over.

Our gift to ourselves is to see the day in its many dimensions. No day is ever one thing. It is the shifting of events and people and motion while connected are not the same.