Pretty much as predicted, we woke to an inch of snow this morning and soft, fat flakes fell long enough to give us about 2 or so inches in our neighborhood by mid-morning.
It was certainly beautiful, but it was funny to me how much I have already moved on from the desire for snow this year. I'm on to gardening dreams... albeit prematurely. It's still only February. But just yesterday Gramma C and I transplanted the giant rhubarb corm (18" diameter!) from her community garden space into our home garden. There's all kinds of new growth beginning to appear amongst the knot and tangle of its bulk. Along with the two plants we already have we're sure to enjoy plenty of rhubarb this Spring.
Walking back from dropping Calder off at playschool I followed his footsteps in the snow. I had the strongest sense of him there with me as I watched his path weave and cross, dart and jog across the one I had made as we walked this way just minutes before. There he was stopping at the side of that car to wipe deep snow off its window. That's where he meandered across the street. There's where he stopped to choose a snow-covered branch to carry. Nothing about his path, unlike my own, was straight. He had fully experienced his route, found so much of interest, and had the fullest of times as we walked... hardly together, I realized, to school.
Back home, I brought out the camera to see what I could see. And even though I didn't need this snow the way I've clung to snowfalls in the past, I suddenly saw again how amazing our little slice of the world is. Especially the greenway right outside our back door. The creek. The trees. So beautiful. We are very lucky to be where we are.