It's snowing pretty steady here in northern Wyoming. Although not a hard core winter storm, it is sufficient enough that seeing across the street from my office window is obviously fuzzy. That, and the normal mountain view I enjoy is completely obfuscated.
I have seen my fair share of storms: blizzards that last three days, three and four day snow falls with flakes so big they damn near knock you out when they land, soft easy snow, ice like crystals that make a tinking sound when they land, freak storms that come out of nowhere and dump several inches in just a couple of hours. Yep, I have seen all sorts.
Perhaps the gloomy cast of the day is making me a bit sleepy. It was a struggle to get out of bed this morning and the snow wasn't even falling yet. But the day had already taken on its light grey appearance, forecasting the eventual fall of winter moisture.
I suppose the farmers would be happy as the moistures falls on their fields and the snow creates a blanket to protect their winter wheat.
Kids are happy too, I would think, as the potential accumulation could mean trips down hills on sleds, snowball fights, snowmen, and possibly the cancellation of their perceived academic prison.
But for me the snow places my feelings in a strange juxtaposition. On the one hand I want to be outside playing with my kids, embracing the youth that hasn't quite found its way out of my body. On the other hand, I want to stay in, wrapped in a warm blanket, cursing silently to myself as I complain that my age is making it hard to deal with the cold.
Not that either does me any good. No, no matter what I think, I will still be forced to go out and confront my day.
Perhaps if I turn my thought to warmer climates and fun times the snow and cold air wont be as daunting.
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