Growing it up it seemed we had a white Christmas more oft’ than not.
Some of my favorite memories involve snow days—like the year it snowed a few feet and then promptly froze solid, turning our lawn into a private ice skating rink. My friends and I bundled up in scarves and puff coats; with little more than tennis shoes on our feet, we cross overed, camel spun, and arabesqued our way around the backyard.
For one glorious day we were world class figure skaters.
I used to wish with all my might for one more day, just like that one. Alas, it was a day sprinkled with pixie dust; a magical day that comes but once in a lifetime.
Doesn’t stop me from wishing, mind you—because it was completely awesome.
Of course today, old man weather is something of a prankster. He’ll throw out some snow, maybe in September, maybe in November. Then out comes the blue skies and sunshine, until ornaments are safely tucked away, and there’s nary a wreath to be seen.
It’s so rude. I mean really, what good is snow after Christmas?
Friday night, however, the snow began to fall in big, fluffy flakes. We awoke Saturday morning to a winter wonderland. They’re saying it won’t last; we’re on the cusp of a warming trend. But for right now, today, there’s snow, snow, snow, snow, snow . . .
Sing with me now . . .