Enormous fluffy flakes of snow fell out of the sky again today.
What I like best about falling snow is how cozy and warm it makes me feel inside. I don’t ski. I don’t snowmobile. I don’t stand on frozen lakes angling for fish. I don’t make round little carrot-nosed men with scarves fluttering in the breeze. I don’t play in the snow and I am disinclined to work in it, too — driving, shoveling, gingerly tip-toeing through it makes me sigh and roll my eyes — again?
But gazing at falling snow through the rank of panes in my living room makes me want to brew a cup of coffee and lose myself in a good book.
So it’s good for something, I guess.