The sun lit Wisconsin’s first snow beautifully Saturday as I traveled home, so, of course, I had to stop and take a picture.
Then, I stopped again, hopscotching happily across rural roads and rudely ignoring the very advice I’d solicited from my turn-by-turn navigation.
Winter’s first snow preens a little as it lands. It takes a bow from red barns and evergreens, curtsies on cement sidewalks and brick facades.
Delighted, I popped on my flashers, stood next to my icy little blue car and applauded the best way I know, by snapping photos.
I missed a great shot of a blaze orange hunter headed stage left against a thick verdant curtain of trees, because I worried I might get shot.
I passed a line of willows genuflecting toward a gorgeous pond. Then, I changed my mind, U-turned, headed back and took a few pictures.
The golden hour passes quickly and I hadn’t even planned this shoot.
Still, like a dedicated suitor of the state I’ve grown to love, I made the most of moments, a proud church standing tall on a hill, a field of hay bales snug in the setting sun.
Here’s to you, Wisconsin. Here’s to the first taste of winter.
I’m ready to toast you with hot cider and crackling fires, with warm mittens and waterproof boots.
I love your seasons, and the way they challenge us. I love your vistas, the silos and striped fields, tree lines and cityscapes.
Mostly, I love that you’re the state my family calls home.
Be good to the travelers this week, Wisconsin.
And, even though your first snow didn’t actually reach my own city, I still applaud you.
You are beautiful, Wisconsin. Bravo!