Where is my snow?

It has only snowed once so far and January is almost over. People who pooh-pooh global warming obviously should rethink things a bit. Today it is supposed to give us a dusting. So far all I hear is a tinkling of sleet, not even enough to cancel a class. You hear people my age talking all the time about how when I was a kid we had SNOW! Schools were closed, roads were impassible, we had to walk 6 miles both ways to the sledding hill and daggummit we LIKED IT! But seriously, there was more snow. Piled higher and dropping more often. White and fluffy, wet and sloppy, powdery and fine. I loved it. There is nothing more magical than a walk in the snow. Everything is so muted and quiet. The wonderland spreads before you, landscapes change before your eyes as the wind shifts the drifts and swirls white to cover your tracks. You are alone. It's holy. Oh, where is my snow?

Falling Leaves

Finally the leaves are turning. Pretty odd for the best fall color to arrive in St. Louis the first week of November, but I guess we'll have to get used to it. Earlier this week my friends and I were waxing nostalgic over autumns past. I remember riding in a homecoming parade in high school, early October, full sun of the afternoon, freezing in a black leather jacket. At the football game that night we bundled up in blankets and could see our breath. These past few years I've been in shorts and a tank top picking a tomatoes and basil the first week of October. This year the basil, the most tender of herbs, lasted outside until November 5th. Unheard of here. As much as the shorter days depress me, a short warm day is just disconcerting. I don't know how folks who live South and West do it. How can you feel like baking cookies or Christmas shopping when it's 70 degrees outside. Guess it's just what you grow up with.