I returned home on Saturday from a lovely week in Austin and a very long layover in Chicago because Minnesota was in a tizzy over the weather. This kind of weather:
The first snow! The first dump, I should say. The entire landscape is transformed. Suddenly it’s the North Pole all around, and the entire family is giddy. I haven’t seen my kids in two days.
I know I should feel trepidation. We won’t see our grass again until, say, April. From the tales I’ve heard, we’ve moved to Narnia under the reign of the White Witch, where it is always winter and never (except for one day) Christmas. Yet while I know February is on the horizon, what I see now is so lovely: mounds and mounds of snow for sledding and building and throwing and tasting.