When I looked out our back door this morning, there was some white stuff covering the deck. Looked like snow. Felt like snow. Yep, it's snow. It's here. Funny how as I get older, my feelings toward the white stuff has changed. I remember many "first snowfalls" of the year as a good ol' Minnesota kid. Usually it was during class at school. Someone would happen to look out the window and scream, "It's snowing!!!' Then all the kids would jump up out of their seats and rush to the windows to oooh and ahhhh. It was such a magical moment. I never paid attention to the teacher's reactions back then, but I am now pretty sure they were probably muttering a few non-magical words under their breath! Now, don't get me wrong, sometimes snow is good. I love to play in the snow with Landon. Snow angels, snowmen, sledding down the hills, all the fun magical stuff. It's just that as an adult, I know with the snow comes the freezing cold temps., and the wind, and the ice, and the blizzards. I don't like to drive in it. I don't like to ride in it. I don't like it in my shoes. I don't like it in my car. I don't like it in my house. I don't like green eggs and ham... (Oops got off track here!) So, why do I live here? Because even if I get cold, wet, or frostbite,
I don't want to miss even one magical moment.
