But the little kid in me likes the frosted side.

The slogan from this more than 20 year old commercial for Kellog's mini wheats has stuck with me. It gets pulled out sometimes when it snows. Not during your mid winter snowfall, there is nothing special about that, but rather the first snow of the season, or that unexpected last spring snow that sometimes falls after everything has already melted, and I've put my boots away.

Yesterday it rained for a good part of the day. In the afternoon we went for a coffee with a friend, and I noticed that even though it was above freezing, the cold really bit. Sure enough on the way back home the rain was mixed with some wet snow. We went back in the house, and didn't pay attention to the outside anymore, it was getting dark anyways.

At about 8 pm, the photographer happened be going down the stairs and looked out the window over the front door. "You should have a look outside" he calls to me. Sure enough, fluffy flakes were coming down, and staying on the ground. There wasn't much wind, and when I stepped outside I immediately noticed the peculiar acoustic conditions that snow always produces. It's oddly still, as if nature asks you to listen for a moment.

Call the photographer into action. The long exposure means that you cannot see the snowflakes, but you can see that the snow has produced a fine outline on the bare trees. My spirea has not dropped all it's leaves yet, and some maples are still stubbornly holding their leaves. Two weeks ago the city came and installed the "arm" on the fire hydrant (so it can be found when buried in the snowbank) and I thought: "already"?

If it does not melt today (and that seems unlikely) it will mean that tricker-treaters will be more visible tonight.

I know that come the middle of February I will be sick to the teeth of this stuff. It happens every year. This pretty dusting will be replaced by ugly brown dirt in the snowbanks, and ice patches that are incompatible with not so sure-footed me. By March I will get spring fever, pre-maturely and unpractical. But today I can appreciate the beauty.

So now I am having a bit of a flannel morning. Tea and toast with jam in my jammies while looking out the window. Large flocks of geese are flying overhead massing for the trek south. Someone once told me that they will not cross the rivers until they freeze, but in any case they will leave soon.

All this white stuff is reminding me that  we need to buy a new Christmas tree. Our old one went curbside after nine years of duty, the last two years I had to truss it together with brown 4/22 wire, as the branches were drooping due to cracked supports. No doubt by tomorrow every retail store will me in full Christmas mode.


It's just that time of year.