Both My Beloved and I have family back east. Once a year or so, we grit our teeth, board an airplane (flying has become a cattle drive rather than the exciting adventure it once was), and fly back east to visit.
This time, our visit was in two parts - to Connecticut to help with emptying My Beloved's mother's house after Hurricane Irene damaged it, and to the Boston area to visit with My Beloved's daughter and her family.
The drive between Connecticut and Massachusetts was lovely with fall colors just starting in the trees and the rocky bones of the land jutting out here and there. We arrived in time for Hallowe'en. So did the early winter snowstorm that dumped about five inches of snow on the carefully carved pumpkins.
It was heavy, wet snow, what we used to call "heart attack snow" when I lived in Rochester. The leaves were still on most of the trees, too, so the heavy snow broke branches onto power lines, leaving millions of families in the dark. We were lucky, we kept power the whole time, so we could just enjoy the novelty.
My granddaughter and I made snow angels and had a snowball fight. Because neither of us has good aim, it remained playful. She decided to slide down her snow-covered slide, too - she's four, so a cold bum doesn't stop her. The snow made the slide even slipperier - she flew about two feet beyond the end of the slide, landing laughing into soft snow. Gotta do it again! And again!
After escorting our Little Mermaid on her Trick or Treating rounds (our grandson dressed up as a little red crab, but he fell asleep in the stroller so he'll have to learn about Hallowe'en next year), we packed up our stuff and headed back west, arriving to unseasonably warm temperatures (thank you, weather gods!) and blue skies. Back East is fun and we miss those folks when we are home, but Out West is even better.