First snow

It’s 9:30 a.m. The first snow of the year. It suspends in the air, like snowglobe snow but without the ground accumulation, artificial or otherwise. Though the baby and I are both nursing colds, it felt good to get out in the crisp, fresh air. (Thank goodness for the dog needing her morning walk or I might’ve tricked myself into staying bundled up inside.)

As a child in Colorado, my favorite season was summer, obviously. (Would any kid say otherwise?) As an adult in Minnesota, and with no season officially “off” of work, the seasons are on a far more equal playing field. And summer? It doesn’t stand a chance. Minnesota summers are muggy and buggy. Not that I don’t enjoy aspects of summer, but it doesn’t hold a citronella candle to the other seasons, in my humble opinion.

These days, I relish winters, even here in Minnesota where they can be particularly harsh. Surviving winter is made possible by a change in mindset, and vocabulary. By now, we’ve probably all become familiar with the Scandinavian concept of hygge, which can best (but still rather poorly) be translated to “cozy.” Well, there’s a reason so many Scandinavians initially settled in Minnesota (it’s cold)! And there’s a reason so many of us have stayed (it’s cozy)!

Though it is decidedly still fall (and always is when the first snow flies) seeing that snow for the first time always gets me feeling a certain kind of way. I yearn for cups of tea and layered sweaters and skiing and cuddling under blankets and glowing fireplaces and watching my dog play in the snow and candlelight “just because” and reading books and sledding and baking cookies and knitting and my daughter’s rosy nose.

And as I hit “publish” at 11:50 a.m., that first snow has already melted from what leaves it was clinging to. If not for the memory of past winters, I might just enjoy the beautiful fall and not impatiently wait for a second snow.

Snow day caravan