Yesterday I awoke to the first snowfall.
Not much white stuff on the ground or deck, but just enough to count; just enough to send a thrill through my veins. Yes, that's right, a THRILL.
On the wings of fresh cool air, amazing, unique crystals of frozen water drift to the ground - a clean white coverlet over fallen leaves.
But more, there is a quickening of my spirit, an eagerness to jump at the invitation to be a child again, wide-eyed with anticipation of the joys that fresh snow brings.
And I can be happily eloquent about snow in no small part because my adult self does not have to work, drive or walk in it.
I can already hear the groans and guffaws of incredulity from those who feel less enamoured with Jack Frost and his cool companions. There are those who truly do suffer in the cold. To them I offer my sympathy and warmest thoughts.
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| Funchal, Madeira |
To the winter whiners, I offer my assurance that come the end of January, I will have chilly words more in line with your sentiments. But in the meantime indulge me a little as I enjoy the white artistry outside my door, this morning caught in sunlight.
I watched winter's reveal, more of just a teaser yesterday and all but gone now, from my favourite room in the house, the kitchen, where I cooked up a storm as flakes fell. Granola, pastry, savoury crackers, pumpkin spice cake and muffins filled the air with the warm scent of cinnamon, nutmeg and cloves. The enterprise also filled the sink with dishes and by the time those were done and the counters cleared, the sun was setting without a blogpost in sight. No photos of the baking either - I didn't stop to take any. So be it.
A full, fragrant kitchen AND the first snow - priceless.
©2016 April Hoeller
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