When you live in the Southeast, to hear even a mention of "snow" leaves you a) giddy and eager and instantly childlike or b) rolling your eyes with disbelief, contempt and indifference.
I fall into the first category.
I W.A.N.T. it to snow worse than my children, which is kind of ridiculous because I have no intention of playing in it for goodness sakes, that would be cold and wet and messy! It’s difficult to articulate why I love the snow, even I can’t put my finger on it. Is it because it’s a rarity? Gives grace and beauty and "voice" to silence? Blankets imperfection with perfection? Or, more likely, ties my present to past memory–the best kind–full of laughter and friends and hot-whipped-cream-topped drinks and childhood wonder.
A few pictures from last night, a bit more snow than expected, but sadly almost gone this morning. MOST area schools are closed–INSANE because the roads NEVER iced up, but totally "Southern"–with the exception of my kids’ school. I wrongly assumed ours was closed, too (and aren’t we all thinking what "assuming" is right now…:/); thank goodness one of their friends called and gave me time to get ’em up and out the door……….barely!
Our front yard ~
A few close ups ~
The picture of eternal optimism? My children…trying to "sled" on this; eternally optimistic because 1) there was maybe 1/4 inch of "accumulation", and 2) they couldn’t find our sleds (at night, under the house? thrown out??). Cookie sheets don’t work very well on a wet concrete driveway.
Stephen made the most of it with this (which I’d bet money is in my freezer right now Godblesshim).
But the coolest-weirdest picture?
I took it because as I was standing in my kitchen looking out our front window, the view was magnificent. Here, you can’t see how hard the snow was coming down at that moment; but what you CAN see? An eerie red glow from the red pendant lights that hang over the bar between the kitchen and keeping room (the trim is painted white), a reflection of our yellow kitchen and curtains on the back window, and the "ghost" of me. The longer I look at the photograph, the more I discover….