Just before Christmas, we had a tiny bit of snow. I took pictures to mark the occasion.
It was gone in a day of course, but it made me happy. Having been born in March in Minnesota; and having spent the next 20+ years either there, or in similarly snowy climates, snow is imprinted somehow in me, and I respond when I see it. After more than a decade without it, I am glad to be back where it can be found. It represents continuity with my past and my family, and good memories I have of wandering outside and experiencing the peculiar nature of snow – the way it muffles sound, and changes the appearance of things; how it draws people together to stay warm, and to figure out how to maneuver through life while buried in the stuff.
This weekend it snowed and snowed and snowed – for two days and two nights. The children joyfully sledded, but not for too long during the snowfall, because the wind drove a little too hard for comfort. After the storm, we had great sled rides in the sunshine on perfect slushy snow.