First Snow

It is 5:30 AM, a light snow is falling. It threatened to all day yesterday, but held off until the dark pre-dawn. Reports filtered in of flakes in Kansas, near the airport, rain drops with a bit of ice at their core were felt now and then. Winter was finally coming to my part of the world.

A short 24 hours ago, I had a couple of hibiscus still in the garden; not as spectacularly blooming as they were in summer, but holding on. As the snowy forecast loomed and the temperatures plummeted they, along with the cushions and umbrellas on the lawn furniture, were hastily brought inside for the winter. Dunbar got covered with a car cover, protecting the paint which is worth more than the sum of the parts in most respects. (Note to self, do NOT put the car cover on after having more than 1 vodka, you put the damn thing on backwards...)

The summer to winter transition is always a bit bittersweet. I always mark the day when I bring in all the outdoor accouterments as to me that day is the real beginning of winter. I do enjoy the summer, the sun, the outdoors, walks, flowers and the verdant green. But being Midwest born and bred, I relish the change of seasons, the rhythm, the cycle, the inevitability of it all. Those who gloat and scream about their trips or habitation in sunnier climes soon will bitch when their temps soar.

No climate is perfect. My friends in AZ tell me of the searing heat (yes it is a "dry heat" but so is my oven and I not wish to live in it either), the relentless brown and the sandstorms. Our humidity, winter blasts and chance of tornadoes are not much different from the south's stifling soup and occasional hurricane. Much of the Pacific Northwest is too drizzly and cool.

Get over it people. Snow and cold and winter is a part of life. A good snow makes us hearty, it quiets the world, cleanses the air, and blankets our ugly structures with nature's glory.

Besides, what would Christmas be with out a little snow?