on dasher, on dancer
it started out innocently enough.
we hunkered down (such a strange combination of words, and while I'm on it, why do we not say "over the weather" when things are going in our favor or if we are healthy? what in the hell does "under the weather" mean, anyway?) for a night of tea and photo loading. in the morning, we had to tuck our pants into our boots just to get down the front steps.
I ran down to the end of the street to get to the beach. prancing ever so gracefully, I leapt into the air over a huge pile of snow. "I'm going to take pictures where the ocean meets the snow! Wheee!"
try WHAM instead.
face first I landed, hands outstretched, snow in my sleeves and socks. fingers so cold it felt like they shattered, and camera under a foot of white. apparently cameras don't really dig being plunged into wet freezing snow, because mine lost all will to live. with moments of battery I trudged to the water's edge, and was glad that I didn't give up for that one freezing shining moment, before the biting wind blew shards of ice in my face, driving me back to the warmth of the car.