It had been promised (the snow), just as it had a number of times this season. I was awaiting a whirling white visitation, splendidly cold, one to kiss my lips numb and leave them frozen. Not the sort of thing one normally looks forward to, I admit, unless the season has been uncannily mild. Or unless one happens to be a coziness addict - an appreciator of warm teas and soft blankets and the homey sense of well being that comes with thawing toes.
At this time of year, I normally feel starved for springtime. I grow weary of frozen air. I get distressed by hazardous road conditions and threatened safety and cancelled plans. But I do enjoy finding refuge from chill. I like to look out from a sheltering house upon a world gone white.
I hope I won't be writing soon to say there's been a drastic change. But this weekend, I missed snow.
(photo © 2010 N Shuman)