There's white stuff on the ground that, if my Mid-Western upbringing recalls correctly, is called "SNOW." We haven't had a real snow here in my part of North Carolina for almost 5 years. Yesterday Blair and I were reading in the library with a hard rain outside and suddenly--POOF. It was snow falling instead of rain. I walked around the house, staring rapt out of every window, reluctant to miss a minute of the fresh beauty. When the kids next door ran outside to jump on their trampoline, sending snow flying, I considered joining them and frankly am mad at myself that I didn't.
It's not a hard enough snow to keep Blair home for the day, although you wouldn't know that from the frantic broadcasts of the local media. They're playing up the "danger" aspects of the snow for all it's worth. Still... I have power which makes it easy to be smug. A couple of friends are 10 hours plus w/out power and I suspect not enjoying nature's miracle as much as me.
Right now I'm ensconced behind my writing desk at the front window, admiring the wisps of snow that flurry the air whenever the wind blows. The snow is untouched in front of our house except for tiny kitty paw-prints from the aptly named "Snowball," our neighbor's cat. Celine Deon is singing in the background, Lucy_Cat is sniffing the radio where Celine's voice is coming from, and at last sighting, Olivia was passed out upstairs.
I hope the snow lasts. Once every five years just isn't enough.