The first year we moved into our house, it snowed for a couple of days and we wandered the neighborhood buried to the ankles in snow that obliterated all street edges and property boundaries. Each year since then, it seems we get less and less snow. The temperature hovers just enough above 32 degrees to keep us from getting a decent accumulation. All we get these days is wimpy snow-semi-storms that last long enough to give us about an inch, which manages to make the trees look beautiful and sparkly, but seems to be immediately followed by rain that takes everything away before you can get a pot of soup on the stove and start a jigsaw puzzle. Still, it's beautiful while it lasts, and everywhere I look there are possibilities for post cards, like this:
Too bad it lasts less than a day after the rain starts. Too bad we can't get to at least 31 degrees for a while, for long enough to give us at least a few days to enjoy the scenery. And I can't help but wonder whether this is just a series of warmer winters or if it's a permanent shift, giving us less and less snow every year until we get to a point where it's just a memory.
