Winter's first

We had our first significant snow of the season yesterday. We went to sleep with big, fat flakes dancing in the dark skies, and woke up to impossibly soft fluffs of white perched on top of every vertical and near-vertical surface imaginable.

So I did what any OCD-suffering writer does: I dropped the digicam into my knapsack and headed off to the office. Along the way, I captured whatever caught my eye. Interrestingly, this picture is the least "snowy" of the few dozen that I took. But there's something about the s-curve of the bike path that makes this one burn in my brain.

It's a lovely summer-meets-winter message, and as I stood there drinking in the snow-induced silence of the scene, I half-expected someone on a bike to emerge from the top of the frame and ask me if I wanted my own picture taken. It didn't happen, and likely won't until spring. But it reinforces the notion that you never know who or what you'll encounter on these adventurous paths. And a new discovery often lies just around the furthest bend.

Incidentally, all the snow had melted by evening, and the scenes of that wintry, white-painted morning faded back into our collective memory.