“The first fall of snow is not only an event,
it is a magical event.
You go to bed in one kind of a world
and wake up in another quite different,
and if this is not enchantment
then where is it to be found?”
I love our seasons.
And one of the best parts is always the first snow.
Luckily, the big snow perfectly coincided with the end of the school day, so they had enough time to dig out some somewhat warmer clothing (not quite the "real" winter snow pants and hats and such yet but at least long pants and warm jackets) and run out into the falling flakes.
"It's the REAL snow, Mom!" Zoran yelled at me as he and the boys were quickly trying to gather snow wear and get outside.
"You know, the REAL kind, that kind that just keeps coming down and covering everything and you can pick it up and pack it together and make stuff! The REAL kind!"
No more of the white-ish sleet or thick frost in the morning pretending they'll soon be "real" snow.
It was so exciting they really did just run through it for about a half an hour.
|Zoran walking on his hands (and about to crash) into the snow.|
Running, flipping, somersaults . . . just enjoying the snow at a fast-forward sort of pace.
So maybe we've not quite adjusted to winter yet. Or maybe even fall.
When Iyezk and Bryce got ready to go home for dinner I saw the pile of clothes they were wearing beside the door. When I looked outside, I saw them running home—back in their tennis shoes; no coats, hats or gloves; Bryce in shorts.
I went to tell them they needed to wear warmer clothes now it was winter.
And then I realized I was standing bareboot in the snow.
Like I said, still adjusting.
Adjusting, but enjoying the adjustment.
If I live in Montana it just seems right to be buried in snow from Thanksgiving to New Years.