Snow

There’s something unexpectedly calming about a quiet snowfall at the end of the day.  Unexpected for me at least, the southerner who never fully understood why God invented the season called Winter.  I almost don’t mind it anymore.
Growing up in Texas, I always assumed that “catching snowflakes on your tongue” simply involved standing outside with your mouth open and hoping something cold would land on it.  Not until today did I discover that snow, real snow, wanders and falls slowly in big wet clumps you can pick out 20 feet up and very carefully catch that one clump, your clump, that you’ve so carefully positioned yourself beneath.

And I never knew you could hear snow fall.  Perhaps our snow was always too little and light, or perhaps the distant interstate noises drowned it out.  But I heard the snow today.

But I’m still waiting for that accumulation we’ve been promised.  If I wake up tomorrow and it goes crunch under my feet, life will be happy.