Nanook of the North

Christmas Eve found Chicago under a thick coat of ice. Oh, it was lovely. There were icicles hanging from every peak, branch, and leaf. It was winter perfection, straight out of a scene from Dr. Zhivago--that is unless you had to drive somewhere, which we didn't. So, we just enjoyed the beauty of a frozen world, admiring the work of Jack Frost or Suzy Snowflake or whoever else was working that day.

Hobbes continues his brave quest of chasing birdies each day, going out in rain, sleet, snow, or ice. And he loves nothing better if someone comes out with him to play in the yard. So that I did. Hobbes, me, and the camera went out to crunch around in the yard for a bit. Me crunching a bit more than he, but we crunched--a lot.

We roamed every inch of the back forty (feet, not acres), admiring a frozen this or a frozen that. The grasses offered tiny frozen raindrops, while the hydrangea blossom dripped frozen icicles off its snow-covered head. The tree looked like a giant bark-flavored Popsicle, while the lawn now resembled a skating rink. The waterfall by the pond looked sadly still, and the pond itself was heavy with ice.

Hobbes and I found wonder in the stillness and laughter in our inability to stay upright. Me from the ice, he from the sheer joy in having someone in the yard with him--he just has to roll over in the snow with glee.

There is just something about that cat that makes me laugh. He never fails to make me slow down just a bit to scratch an orange head or just watch him chase snowflakes falling from the sky. It's a good message he sends: Slow down, just a bit--there is wonder and joy in this big world. Even if it is frozen.