Snow Means One Thing

Chris emailed me on his way back to work after lunch. "Snow!!!!"

It's been two and a half years, but I still find it charming that my Tucson-native husband is shocked by the arrival of snow.

Sure, today's small flurry isn't sticking to the ground, but it does give us a bit of a wake-up call to the season. Summer is definitely not coming back any time soon. Fall isn't the pretty colorful spectacle anymore. It's now the stuff of forty degrees or less and leftover soggy leaves that we forgot to rake.

Winter is coming! This means more to me than the pending arrival of the holiday season. I love winter, and I always have. Of course it's not because I enjoy winter sports, because I don't... it's because I love cold weather and gazing at freshly fallen snow. I love the crunch of snow and ice under my shoes. I even love having a cold and runny nose while I'm slaving over a shovel.

Last winter, Ben could care less about the snow. We tried to encourage him to play with the white stuff, but he just shook it off and looked at us like we were crazy. I'm hoping that this year, we can teach him the joy of snow angels and snowpeople.

You can be assured that once we have accumulation of more than four inches, I will be leaving Anna inside with Tucson Daddy and dragging Ben outside to throw snow at him.