The First Fall

My hands were itchy, I think, and the discomfort of rubbing at my knuckles urged me awake around 4:00 this morning. I mumbled something to myself about a humidifier and smoothed on lotion. Pleased with the silky smoothness of my skin, I considered curling up to sleep a bit more. I got as far as tossing the lotion aside and wrapping myself around a fluffy pillow, but soon blinked a few times and decided I was up for the day.

I like mornings. There’s the promise of hours stretching ahead of me, filled with all categories of things to do and see and experience. Best of all, if I wake early enough, I can sometimes sneak in a nap! (I like to experience sleep.) Feeling a bit superior – I was awake, the neighbors were asleep. I’m so winning – I gasped with utter delight when I glanced out the window.

“Snow,” I uttered simply, stopping to stare. My lips curved and I blinked back a few tears. “I’ve missed you,” I whispered, feeling inordinately sentimental, and hurried to send email to a friend so someone would know of my great fortune. For this wasn’t the “Look at me! I’m a flurry! Oh, well, now you missed it.” type of winter weather. Instead, there was “Get some coffee, brush your teeth - I'm big and fluffy and jolly in my robustness. I'll be around.” snow. A substantial amount – two inches, I’d guess, if I had any talent of estimating such amounts – blanketed the ground in a glistening glow that brought to mind Christmas songs.

“Should have bought a shovel,” I noted, heading downstairs with coat, hat, gloves, shoes and socks. I started coffee and stood at the glass door, smiling eagerly at the flakes that drifted happily toward the ground. Sprout emerged from the dog door, looking up at me and offering an informative meow.

“I see the snow,” I told him, reaching to smooth stray flakes from his stripey coat. He purred, wandering to his empty bowl and offering another informative sound. I obediently offered kibble and considered the efficacy of a push broom against the snow on my sidewalk after I'd returned to my spot at the door.

“I am awesome,” I soon declared into the quiet morning, bundled up and armed with my broom. Shoving the wet, heavy masses of white toward the curb, I worked happily. I’ve wanted snow for years, feeling powerfully envious each time someone’s blog would boast snowy pictures or stories of winter inconveniences. I’m sure I’ll have my own – I’m good at pouting complaints – but for now, there’s snow. And it’s impossibly lovely.

(The photos, by the way, are taken from my bedroom deck and driveway, respectively. How blessed am I?!)