Brian had to work today. The one Saturday he has to work happens to fall on the very same Saturday that we get three inches of snow. Rats. He, Ruth and I went out for a little while yesterday afternoon and played in the snow as it was falling. There was a sense of excitement and playfulness in the air. Oh, how I wish we lived somewhere that got snow more often (yet, still in the South - HA!)
In order to play in the snow today, I was outside at 8am. That really isn't that early. We were up at 6:30am, of course, and had already enjoyed the ritual that has become Pancake Saturday. With Grayson asleep and Ruth occupied and Brian in the shower, I snuck outside for a few moments of bliss.
It was cold only reaching 25 degrees at that hour. The sun was out but was not yet shinning brillantly as it is now. The air was clean and crisp and the only sounds I could hear were the birds singing and the gentle wind slipping through and hitting objects. When I closed my eyes I could easily pretend I lived out in the country. It was almost as if time stopped, or rather, I stopped to experience the essence of air.
Once I had cleaned off Brian's truck, I took a walk around our yard. Our .6 acres doesn't seem very big in the summer or fall when the woods and backyard might contain snakes but covered in snow the entire .6 arces seemed to belong only to me - no snakes - and beckoned me to crunch snow beneath my feet. On the side yard, the snow glistened as if fairies had sprinkled it with diamond dust in the early morning light. The snow covered all imperfections in the yard making everything seem clean and brigt. No cars passed. It was only me and the snow.
My mind wandered to snows of past - building a snow fort under the "careful" direction of my sister Malory, a contractor of snow forts with me being cheap labor, feeding cattle from the back of a pickup truck being careful not to cut myself as Dad drove over a terrace, losing a knife in the barn in a three story stack of hay and having to go look for it (yes a needle in a haystack), sliding down the road on plastic sacks and oh so many more memories.
If I get any more nogalistic as I (hopefully) grow older, what will become of me? I will just have to think about that tomorrow.
When Ruth and I got out after lunch for a quick walk around the yard and for Ruth to throw snow, the sun was already doing its job of melting snow. The road was mostly clear and cars were driving at their normal speed. The magic of the morning was slipping away and leaving behind only memories. Memories that I hope my daughter will one day look back and remember the joy she and her mother experienced ever time it snowed.
So that, husband and other faithful readers, is why I love snow. By the end of the day most of it will be gone, but I will still have the memory of this, our first real snow here in our home.
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