My father didn't share my enthusiasm for big snowstorms. After all, he had to plow the stuff. All I had to do was go to bed at night and pray for a snow day.
I used to wonder at what age people went from loving the sight of a snowy day to hating the thought of it. Now I think I might be approaching that age.
We've had just two episodes of measurable snow in my part of the world. And yes, I thought they both turned the brown world of late autumn into something much lovelier.
But there's a good chance we'll get some significant snowfall in the next day or so. Frankly, I'm not looking forward to it. I have things to do the morning after the storm is expected to hit. I do not relish the thought of driving through all that slush and muck.
It helps that there's a 3-year-old in the house. He approaches life with so much wonder and excitement that it's impossible to be cynical in his presence.
I just hope that when he wakes up to a winter wonderland on Wednesday morning, his excitement will prove contagious.
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Well, how did that work out? ;)
ReplyDeleteGreat -- until I had to drive through 4 inches of slush.
ReplyDeleteMary - I feel for you. I had to go to Oneonta yesterday morning.
ReplyDelete