Winter really began today, which is to say we had our first overnight snowfall - five or six inches, with a lovely little flurry continuing to fall this moment. I was actually so excited about it that when I heard the snow plow barrel past the house at 4:00am I was tempted to run to the window for a glimpse of the snow-covered world.
We made snowballs, tried (unsuccessfully) to build a snowman, took turns shoveling the driveway, and generally just marveled at how exquisitely beautiful everything was. Then we headed down the street to the park, where there is a gentle sledding hill perfect for an almost-three-year-old. So much fun.
I've been anticipating winter with equal parts excitement and dread. So far, I've appreciated everything about the Midwest so much more, noticing all these details that I took for granted when I lived my first twenty-two years on Midwestern soil. I worried that if I love spring and summer and autumn more than I did before, I might also hate winter more than I did before. And I hated winter a lot. One doesn't move to Southern California on accident.
I know that there's a huge difference between the first picturesque December snowfall and the thirteenth late February blizzard, and let us not even speak of the gaping crevasse between 30 degrees and -10. But so far so good. So far - and this is something I've never uttered before in my life - I kind of like winter. If we have even a handful of mornings like this perfect morning, I'd venture to say the season shall be worth the trouble.