I missed the first snow of the winter yesterday--by all accounts it was the makings of a wonderland--big beautiful flakes falling at a leisurely pace, just cold enough for it to snow and just enough of it to blanket the ground in white.
I really am not a fan of winter. There is almost nothing that I like about it, other than that we wouldn't have fall without it and I really do love fall. I dread the dark days, the subzero weather, ice, driving on ice. Most of all I fear my husband being out of town and that I will have to figure out how to plow my driveway without him. It is all just not for me. I may have deep New England roots, but I grew up in Southern California and apparently environment over genes has won out in my case.
Exempt from all this is my love of the first snow. For one thing, it usually occurs early enough that the temperatures are hovering around freezing, so it is mild weather. It has been long enough since it last snowed that I actually am glad to see it again. So I am sorry to have missed it, and hope the second snow this year has some of these characteristics, so I can indulge in my very short enjoyment of winter.
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