I wax romantic about my snow-memories, but really, I've wished for a million things in my life and who the *hell* thought anyone would listen when I said I missed snow? It's like magic. The world changed while I slept, and I thought that only happened in fairy tales.
Half an inch of it coated the ground when I woke up this morning and looked outside. Just there, like it had always been there, like I was supposed to just find this the most perfectly normal morning in creation when it was nothing even close.
Those of you who live in snowy climates can't really appreciate the sheer *bizarrity* of seeing snow on the ground. This pure, glinting white with bits of dark brown earth sneaking up in places to contrast. Eternal stretch of country everywhere and it's all white, glittering, *dazzling* as far as the eye can see, and that's a lot of far to see.
It melted away by noon, and I'm not so much sad that it's gone, but surprised that I was allowed to see it at all, a few hours of siver and white and improbable things, after over a decade of waiting.
I think I'm happy.