It happens around here EVERY winter. All winter. For WAY too long into what most of us would consider the spring. And by THAT time we are all sick to death of its cold, sloppy, shovel and snow brush inducing ways. By that time, we are tired of hats and boots and buckling children with big poofy coats into car seats. By that time we are sick of all the dirty white piles and the hunks of ice clinging to our tires. By that time we are longing for a warmth that isn't induced by fleece or flannel.
Still, the first few snowfalls are always magical. Going to bed with a muddy mess for a yard and waking to a winter wonderland just never ceases to be just a little bit exciting and inspiring.
Even for an "I hate being cold" gal like me.
And the kids? Well, the bus was 30 minutes late and Cal wasn't a bit phased between cleaning off the car with his gloves, making hearts in the snow with his feet and attempting a snowball fight with the girl across the road.
Foreigner, I know just what you mean.