Yesterday we had our first snow of the season. It wasn't much - a couple of very wet inches, barely enough to make a snowball or a snow angel, but definitely enough to make everything white and sparkly. I know a lot of people don't really like the cold wetness of winter in these parts, but I love it and I think it is pure magic.
Somehow, the house suddenly feels smaller when it begins to snow, but in a good way. When the weather is nice the windows are open, the door is usually open to allow the comings and goings of dogs and kids, and it feels like the outside is an extension of our house. But when the winter comes, suddenly the outside becomes less like an extra room and more like a photograph that we look at through the windows. I love the cozy feeling of being hunkered down inside, together, making our traditional first-snow meal of chili in the crock pot and drying mittens and boots in the laundry room. Especially when we don't have anywhere to go and anything we have to do, and we can just sit on the couch cuddling under blankets and reading a book, and time becomes long and lazy, the passing of hours almost too slow to notice until it's suddenly night and time to have dinner, take a nice warm bath and slip into some toasty PJs.
This morning, Bess and I were up early hanging out in the living room, and she called to me excitedly to look out the window. There were three of our neighbor deer grazing in the snow in front of our house, and they all picked their heads up to look back at us. There were still a few flakes falling and it reminded me of a holiday card, so beautiful, serene, sublime.