There was a blanket of white when I got up.  It was a dusting–maybe an inch.  Through the back kitchen window I saw the ground and trees were completely white.  I immediately put some sunflower seed on my platform bird feeder and I am watching a brilliant red cardinal partaking of his meal.  This was the first snowfall of the season.  December and January have been mild so far–thirties and forties most of the time.  There has been no deep, extended “arctic” freeze so far.  I was delighted to see the snow.

The headline in our regional paper said our area might get blanketed by a snowstorm.  I read further and the forecast said at most it would be slightly under an inch of snow.

I had to laugh:  That was a snowstorm?  That was a dusting.  Other areas of the country that consistently get a lot more snow than us would also laugh at that forecast.  Why do weather forecasters here “cry wolf” all the time?

The trees blanketed by the first snowfall were beautiful.  It was a “dusting” but nevertheless breathtaking.  It made me glad to be alive.  I was heading for church in the morning.  Everything–the ground, bushes and trees were completely covered with white.  I would be glad when winter would be over and the warm weather returned but I really was in no rush.  It was a brisk thirty-two degrees outside.  And everything was white, a sight my brother-in-law would never see, who lived in San Francisco.  In a few hours the snow would melt.  The morning truly was a “miracle”.