A Winter Wonderland in Southern California

When I woke from dreaming this morning after seven hours of uninterrupted sleep, I rubbed a circle in the steam on the window by my bed. I peered out to see a transformed world decked out in virgin white snow. Nothing moved - not even a bird. There were no tracks in the snow. The dish for my TV was covered with snow.

A snowstorm tiptoed in during the night. It came quietly with large soft flakes floating directly from the sky to the earth leaving a white blanket about one inch thick. Snow was everywhere except for large bare circles in the protected areas under the oak trees. The sky was gray with a heavy cloud cover, and no breath of a breeze blew kisses to frosty cheeks.

I opened the door for my eager dogs to exit, and they had soon made wild designs in the snow with their tracks. I left a trail of my own when I tramped out carefully to sweep the snow from my satellite dish.

My most curious cats, Buddy and Charlie, stepped out as I stepped back inside. They stopped in surprise to view the changed world, and tried to shake their feet free of the cold wet stuff clinging to their feet.

I brought my reluctant dogs back into our trailer after only a few minutes before they became too soggy, and I made them stop near the door to be blotted and wiped down. Now they are curled up near the heater drying off. The scent of 'wet dog' permeates the place.

The cats are still outside doing what cats do in bad weather. They are hiding under the trailer waiting for me to open the door again so they can make a speedy retreat back into the house.

LATER

After writing a message to my daughter Jane, telling her my optimistic thoughts about her trip to town, the outlook has deteriorated. The snow has started falling again, and an hour later it is still coming down in a volume that presents a very filtered view of the almost-out-of-sight old oak trees that border the arroyo beyond the open field.

Jane is required to complete an uninterrupted working day on her computer before stopping. That means she can't start until 2 PM for errands in town 60 miles away. We share a pickup truck, so I will have to drive it to over her house before she can leave. That is at least seven miles away over hill and vale on uncertain roads. At this rate the snow can be two feet thick by this afternoon. The local weatherman predicts a drop in the temperature, so there goes my expectation that the snow will melt quickly.

I want to accompany my daughter, but even if we complete the trip without incident, that would leave me to drive home alone in the dark from her house. I don't feel competent to drive at night even with good road conditions. I think it better if I stay home today. Perhaps the snow will make us both stay home.

The trip is necessitated by the requirement of the owner of Jane's house. She expects her rent money to be deposited in her bank in cash on the day due. This month that day is today. Jane may not to be able to live up to her landlady's expectations.

Why is  it always so hard for anyone to live up to another's expectations? Why does so much time in our lives have to be devoted to living up to someone else's expectations? I would prefer never to have to live up to anyone's expectations except my own.