I know: Two posts in two days! Will wonders never cease?

Yesterday evening, just as I was finishing my post and putting it up on this site, it began to snow here. Our first snow of the season. We didn’t get a lot of snow — not by any stretch of the imagination. It was a dusting that left a thin layer of flakes on the stairs to our front and back doors and that made it seem someone had sprinkled sugar on the lawn and fallen leaves. But it was enough to put a smile on my face.

To my mind, there is something magical about a first snow, particularly in a place — like here in New York — where it promises a good deal more to some. I know that many of my friends back in the Southeast will think I’m crazy for saying so, but I love snowfall. During our many years in Tennessee, one of the things I missed most was living in a place that had four distinct seasons. Winter in the South was gray and brown and foggy and wet. Satisfying snowfalls were as rare as satisfying election results. Instead of 30 degrees and snowy, we had thirty-four degrees and rainy. All. The. Time. Drove me nuts.

So, now that Nancy and I are back in a place where it snows, we are loving winters again. Nancy was even more excited about last night’s dusting than I was. We understand that this snow will likely be gone by nightfall, or tomorrow at the latest. That’s okay. We’ll get more.

In the meantime, though, I have stood outside in the first snow of the season, felt it tickling my face and melting in my palms. I’m happy.