Confetti from heaven

This morning dawned cold and crisp. As Dusty and I headed round the stand of trees, the sky was crystal clear and blue. I noticed how far south the sun is rising now, and sighed. I hate to see it go.

The next second, it seemed, confetti snow was swirling round us – out of that clear blue sky! Where was it coming from? As I poured coffee down at the church, others made the same observation of the earlier phenomenon – how did it snow out of a clear blue sky? Was there a party going on in heaven – a wedding perhaps, with the guests flinging confetti snow at the happy couple?

No answers there. But the afternoon’s dog walk was altogether more challenging as the arrival of heavily pregnant snow clouds coincided with our step out the back door. We carried on, undaunted, as the fall grew heavier and the flakes bigger; I might have turned back if we hadn’t at that point run into Mary and Tara, our neighbours. Tara was cleverly decked out in a smart doggie coat, a snug fit for the wee poodle, while Dusty wore her own hairy version. As the walk progressed, Dusty began to resemble a Dalmatian. Our speed increased. Round that same stand of trees, onto the road again, heading for home, the fireside and a bit of hot buttered toast.

Ah.

Or a pig’s ear. Which are becoming harder to find to purchase than a hen’s tooth. Well, almost.

So now we’re back inside, the sun’s come out again. Might we expect more confetti from heaven any time soon?