A Very White Christmas - A Nature Photo Essay
Several days before Christmas 2004, southwest Ohio experienced a record breaking snowstorm. Six to eight inches had been forecast, but of course it's always wise to expect more, just in case.
Although I emphasized with all the people trying to travel for the year-end holiday season, I wasn't going anywhere, which allowed me to enjoy the experience. I had been monitoring the weather reports as the storm approached, and had stocked up on my favorite foods beforehand.
So...let...it...snow! It did, but much heavier than the predictions. By the time the storm had finally moved on, up to two feet of snow had fallen in various areas. The swirling winds had made lots of deep drifts, while other spots were almost bare. Behind the garage, the garbage cans had tall, pointed hats of white. The Three Wise Coneheads!
There was no way to get a vehicle in or out to the highway, except maybe with four wheel drive and chains. We would have to wait until we got plowed out, which could take several days. Who cares? Off from work, a nice long holiday, nowhere to go. Sweet.
After the storm system had moved on east, the skies cleared and the temperature dropped much further, down below zero degrees F. The clear blue skies were a visual treat, the sunlight dazzling on the pure white snow.
I ventured out in the morning, heavily bundled. It was very cold, but at least the wind had died down. Most areas of the meadow were knee deep with snow, making for exhausting walking. But it was fun to be out, getting closeup looks at all the drifts and the shapes made by their shadows.
I made a number of excurions out into the surrounding meadows and fields. My favorite time was late afternoon and sunset. 
Then the low angle of the sun's rays cast a yellow glow on the snow, and on the white wooden barn.
An area along the rusty old barbed wire fence was a favorite of mine. the snow drifts were lit by the fading sunlight, bringing out every detail of the fence posts, the wire, the weeds, and the snow.
At dusk on Christmas Eve, I walked out the lane (now plowed out, making for easy walking) toward the road. 
It was clear again, and in the east the nearly full moon was rising above a gradient of pink over dark blue, courtesy of the sunset afterglow. The big bare cottonwood tree was nearly silhoutted in black, its trunk and branches spreading across the sky. The fields were silent in their deep cold blanket of snow. "Silent Night..."
