All of a sudden, there was a fog of snow as we drove north on I-75 between St. Helen and Grayling. It was so dense with large flakes, the lanes disappeared and so did the tail lights of the cars ahead and the headlights of those behind. Seamus was standing on the center console looking out and “She Who Must Be Obeyed” was holding on to whatever she could. The four-hour trip turned into five.
Grayling was asleep as we drive up the exit ramp onto M-72. Plows were out trying to keep up with the snowfall that had begun hours before. Two lanes became one with no chance of passing the semi we caught up to as we crept west toward Kalkaska. The ride, which would have been white knuckle, was a ride through winter wonderland with sights of branches on evergreens laden with snow, bowing as we approached. Currier and Ives couldn’t have created a more beautiful scene.
As usual, for some reason I don’t fully understand, the accumulation of snow became less as we approached Bellaire and less yet as we got closer to Central Lake and the cabin. Three to four inches greeted us as the Jeep made its way into the driveway. By morning, four inches more were added.
As is the custom (Seamus insist on it being observed) by six o’clock I felt a paw patting my arm, followed by a nose shoved under my arm and in my face. I was time to get up and go “exploring.”
The first snow of the season for us both, had Seamus running, jumping at the snow he was throwing up as he ran, acting like a pup. The nine-year old Britt lost five years as he raced through the woods and along the road. His tracks were the first the road had seen since yesterday. I think if he knew haw to make a snowman, there’d be one in the yard.
Coffee was ready on our return and “She Who Must Be Obeyed” was already planning the meals for the five-day deer camp. Life is good.