It's beautiful here. About three inches of snow, and it continues to come down, taking turns with big, fat, sloppy flakes and then the hard little serious ones. It's a balmy 31 degrees, no wind....yet.
I prefer the wind stay away, I like electricity and I've already gotten used to having it back, after 22 hours of doing without a few days ago.
Snow reminds me of my grandmother, always. If it snowed, she called me, no matter the hour. She loved snow, she made sure I slipped, slid, and froze my way to her house so we could make snow cream. Yum!
The evergreen outside my window is coated in white, and it makes me want to recite poetry. Come back! I won't, I promise.
I do feel so close to our Creator when it snows, though. He done good when he thought up snow. The pristine beauty, the way it makes everything so silent and almost reverent.
I am a Southerner, and I romanticize snow. Yankees usually see it as an aggravation, and not much else.
My Yankee cousin visited in the winter once, and I woke her up at seven to make her look outside at the snow. She thought I was nuts.
Eh, maybe I am, a little. At least when it comes to snow.
I know this is a short blog, but I got to get myself back to the window and snow watch before it gets too dark to do so!
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