For those of us who like white in the winter, this has been a great year in New Jersey. The latest arrival of snow began before daybreak today, and by the time Thelma and I were headed up the driveway, there was an accumulation of not quite an inch.
Zippy, the cat, was already out. He loves to go along for our walks, but it makes me nervous because of his habit of stopping in the middle of the street, sitting, ears perked, and surveying the landscape.
When we were half way up the driveway, I turned around and there he was, crossing the lawn toward the cupola, stored near the end of the driveway where it waits to be hoisted to the roof. Then he turned and trotted directly for us.
Zippy stands out on a snowy background because he is almost entirely black. Thelma and I turned toward the river when we reached the street, but I kept glancing back, expecting to see Zippy's pointed ears above the groundcover bordering the driveway.
We had made it about 100 feet along the still wet pavement and I had yet to see Zippy's ears when a large township truck with a plow raised in front came roaring up the street. I held my breath, hoping that Zippy wouldn't step out in front of the plow. I hoped he heard it coming.
The plow truck thundered by, and still no sight of Zippy. Good, I thought.
Thelma was her usual thorough self, sniffing every crystal of roadside snow as the new flakes fell softly. They coated the tree branches and filled the cupped, shiny leaves of boxwood shrubs like a confection.
About 200 feet from the river bank, as we walked beside a large property whose owners recently purchased and restored their riverfront mansion, I saw a motion through the trees on their riverfront lawn. A large doe, gray in the early, flat light, bounded from the left across the snow-covered grass. She was followed by two adolescent fawn.
The offspring matched the rhythm of their mother's leaps, tails straight up, until she stopped with a suddenness that suggested alarm. The doe looked directly at Thelma and me, shifted her head from side to side, sought an improved perspective. Beside her, one of the fawn mimicked her, looking in our general direction.
I waved.
The doe looked some more. Then she leaped to the right again and disappeared behind the next riverfront house.
Back where the deer had left their loping tracks across the lawn, a gray squirrel scampered in their path, banking off each tree trunk that he approached.
Thelma, having seen the river once again, turned and headed home. As we came down the driveway, I saw Zippy ahead, rubbing his shoulder against the cupola.
I think the predatory snow plow had scared him back from the street. He is only a little less wild than the doe and her youngsters.