It snowed today. Reminds me of a story:
In April of 2007, The Husband, The Eldest, and I traveled to Barre, Vermont. When we checked into our hotel, it had been snowing—big globby bits. Mounds of snow piled along the sides of streets. The hotel clerk was doing the standard procedure and I tried to make small talk. Then I asked if he thought the snow was magical.
“You’re from the South, aren’t you?”
In this part of Texas, it doesn’t snow much. Hardly ever. When there IS “wintery precipitation,” it’s usually ice. But this morning was a genuine, breath-takingly beautiful, makes-everything-so-quiet snowfall. It WAS magical.
My Facebook feed lit up with regular adults taking time out of their work day to play in the snow. My children, who were at school today, got to play in the snow in an unscheduled recess time. All around town today, I spotted various snowman makings.
Until, that is, four hours after it snowed the sun came out and melted every trace away.
But it was magic while it lasted.
And I made the most of it: