snowing is half the battle

Can you believe the view of this gorgeous snow-capped mountain from my back porch? Me neither. It's the top of our patio umbrella. It's so strange living in a city where people pray for snow. I'm from Wisconsin where we pray for a summer that lasts longer than 2 weeks. After you see the ugly side of snow (sludge, month-long blizzards, chunks of it down the back of your pants, having to shovel acres of it...daily), the magic quickly fades. For example, it took me 2 hours to get into the city tonight. One more minute, and I would have had to pull over to practice writing my name in it.

When I was little, I used to cry outside when it was snowing because I really hate anything hitting my face (snow, rain, splashing in pools, windshields). My mom came up with the brilliant idea of putting a plastic orange bucket over my head when it snowed. I'd prance around gleefully in my little bucket-head world. There are actually family photos of Mom, Dad, my sister, and bucket-head. Those were happy times.

Having gotten some snow-bashing off my chest, I must add that when I walked outside before the LONG drive home, the barrage of giant fluffy flakes coming down made me want to do a little dance. Of course if I had, I would have slipped on some of that cold, white evil and broken a hip. Then cried for my bucket.