We had our first snowfall last week. It started in earnest after dark, and by morning, dust covered the ground. Except for in dark places, by noon it had melted.
That’s exactly how I like my snowfalls, but it isn’t normal. Snow this time of year should stick around at least until three.
On Saturday, spring returned, at least in temperature. It showed up the week before, too, my sister and I sitting out on a patio without winter coats for hours.
One tree still has autumn leaves. The flowers, though, they’ve mostly left, husks dried out. A few roses remain. Mostly, though, the branches are bare and flow gently in the breeze.
Four more sleeps
Four more sleeps until Christmas vacation. I feel like a little kid. My friend and I walked to see the Christmas lights, and then she slept over on the couch. Just like the old, olden days.
But we do not have snow, and, even though I complain about it and call it names, I miss it. It doesn’t feel like the holidays without it, no matter how many light-up nativities I behold.
Let it snow
I say this and part of me shouts, Be quiet, you fool! We hate Deathflakes!”
Still I whisper, Let it snow. Let it snow. Let it snow.
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