Maybe because I didn't grow up with it, but Snow has always filled me with this absolute wonder and magic. The first time I ever saw it snow was when I was six and we were up at my Great-Grandparent's old Cabin for Thanksgiving. I was wearing a brown jumper dress and a white turtleneck shirt and my sister and I stared out over the ground below us, noses to the window glass, so excited for the promise of snowmen, angels, and ball fight (and my uncle's ill attempt at an igloo...) in the following day.
The new year brought with it a storm of epic proportions for this part of the country and thank God because we need all the storms we can get to make up for last year's horrific drought. It got so cold it even snowed around these parts and the hills a few minutes drive from me had a few inches of snow on them for over 24 hours. We, along with everyone else we know, made pilgrimages to the local snow spots for a little Winter glory.
We ended up going after dark so no one else was around which was pretty swell to have our own private little snowy oasis. We left rosy cheeked, with smiles on our faces, and ready for piping hot cups of coffee and cocoa. We headed home for a soup dinner by the fireplace and reveled in the small sampling of Winter we were blessed with.
My family has been seriously considering a big life change that might bring us to a part of the world where getting snow isn't a once in a decade experience. It's mostly talk at this point, but serious talk. Who knows if anything will come of it, but we're all quite taken with the idea of getting to live in a wonderland of snow. None of us like the heat and unending sunshine of our current home, and we'd all like to utilize the wool in our wardrobes a little more frequently. We'll see. Until then I'll take whatever bit of Snow I can get.