A Day of Snow

The weathermen called for snow -- an inch of snow, they said. I shook my head and muttered.

Right. An inch of snow. And I rolled my eyes.

But this morning we woke to a blanket on the ground. The branches of the trees (Oaks, Elms, Ashes, Pine), down the the tiniest twig, were lined in white. The logs in the back yard against the fence were invisible under the snow that hid them. The rose bush was a drooping mound of white and green.

As the sun came up, gleaming droplets of sunlight fell from branches to the ground. Snowmen began to line the streets. Kids in the neighborhood practiced for perhaps the first time how to pack a snowball and lob in at their chosen adversaries who were slower (or more meticulous) in the packing.

The sky was blue. The falling jewels from the trees made clicking sounds as they landed on the ground. We stood in the snow-covered grass with the sun at our back and listened to the call of a cardinal in an Ash tree to the west. He sat there singing, bright red against the leafless brown and snow-covered white and cloudless blue.

And I ate crow.

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