Finally, finally, finally... snow deep enough to actually do something wintry on! The overnight storm would have been, in what used to be a normal winter, completely unmemorable, but this strange, strange season has been almost completely snowless, so if this is going to be it, Stasia and I will take it... and run, well, snowshoe, with it. To be sure, there was barely enough to actually use the shoes on—at most, we had three slushy inches covering the ground—but we didn't stand on ceremony and charged into the woods towards the Noah-sized stream. There, we looked for animal tracks. Surprisingly, we didn't find any, which probably meant that the local critters were so surprised by the white stuff that they all stayed home. With no grist for the "who passed by?" mill, my granddaughter and I snowshoed home. Stasia wasn't ready for cozy up to the woodstove and wanted to make a stop by our swings. She didn't even need to take off the red shoes to soar.