There is a magic moment when the sun first breaks through following a heavy snow storm to light up the whitest possible snow. Today’s breakout came when several inches of new snow decorated tree limbs and tugged down the ends of spruce boughs on Chicken Ridge.  A gang of ravens flew over the ridge then circling over my head. Was this, I wonder, payback from yesterday when I chased one of them out of our neighbor’s trash can? That bird followed me down the hill toward work until distracted by man collecting the garbage on 6th Street. Then I saw a second raven nestled into the soft snow atop of  one of the totem pole faces. A camera would have been nice then. I brought one along when I returned to the place at noon but only found the raven impression he left behind.

After work the snow falls straight down in flakes large enough to throw shadows on the white ground.  State workers scurry home like people who believe they will turn into statues if they stop. They might. An inch of snow collects on my flat cap in the short time it takes for a long look down Main Street to the sea.