salt

The cat on the lap and snow falling outside, turning the roofs and the roads white and soft looking. The snow had been predicted, and it started punctually this morning. First the road was hardly covered at all, the snow seeming to melt faster than it was falling.
And then everything was covered, ankle deep. The few cars on the road leave deep tracks in the pure white snow. And more and more of the stuff falls, the flakes varying in size, at the beginning they fell fast and straight to the ground, now they float down, slowly, and then the sky is filled with a flurry of much smaller flakes that seem to move very quickly.
A matter of density, water content and wind.

The cat gets off the lap, leaving a scattering of cat hairs on the knees.

Make the usual warm drink, it is Sunday, it is time for rest.
And the snow silence outside is great, there is no sound of engines or footfalls.

It is Sunday, there will be fewer snow ploughs, fewer men in orange coats.
And that written, a municipal truck passes outside, spreading salt.