We woke up this morning to a tiny bit of winter. Tiny where we are, that is. All the way down here on the valley floor we don't get as much snow as the mountain "benches" (as they are called) do.
I like that just fine.
I grew up in Utah but have never been enamored with winter. Well, actually, here's the thing. I could tolerate it, even enjoy it really, if winter lasted from November - January 1st. I DO love having a white Christmas, and I enjoy the forced coziness it creates. I love lighting a fire (flipping a fire switch? Does that count? It sure is easier...) and sipping hot chocolate and taking a nice hot bath.
But there's only so long you can do those things before the charm wears off and all you're left with is slush and muck and grey landscapes and bitter cold. Only so many times you can put on a kid's snow suit and coat and boots and hats and gloves in the day without getting a little weary.
We're not there yet, though. No, right now we're in the sneaking-outside-to-taste-the-snow-again phase. In just socks.
This California-born boy has a lot to learn.