SNOW!!!!!!

I am sorry if you hate snow. No, I am not sorry. If you hate snow, then you are simply missing out on one of the finest things in life. I can understand hating the cold. Snow is not cold. Snow is Snow. It is whiteness and fluffieness and Hot Cocoa and Christmas and childhood and shoveling the driveway at midnight all rolled into one wonderful and euphoric feeling of snow.

Let me explain. You know the hymn obsession? Here you go:

Pale through the gloom, the newly fallen snow,

Wraps in a shroud the silent earth below.

As though t'were mercy's hand had spread the pall,

A symbol of forgiveness unto all.

It's all there. Snow makes the earth quiet. And pure. Especially when it falls at 5:00 on a Sunday morning, and the world is asleep and only a few lights are left on.

I remember my first snow. I know you all think I am Minnesota, but I was actually born in California, during a drought. I remember my first rain. But here we are talking about snow. We moved to Michigan when I was 3, and I remember one night, my dad got us up out of bed, and it was dark, and he made us sit on the piano bench in the dark living room, facing the picture window, and then he opened the curtains on the window and showed us snow. It was just my brother and I on the piano bench (my sisters were all either too little or not born, which I suppose also makes them too little.) And we were thrilled. At least I was. Too thrilled to remember my brother's reaction. Family lore holds that when it was time for me to go back to bed, I threw a royal fit, because I wanted to sleep in the snow. I still want to sleep in the snow. It's so soft and comforting. I just don't throw fits about it anymore, instead I wait until midnight and go out and shovel the driveway. (Ok, inside, I still throw fits about it, but I have learned to keep those inside. Outside, I just jump around like a kindergartener and text people to go look out their windows.)

But the snow this past Sunday wasn't the shovel-the-driveway kind of snow. It was the kind that sticks to trees and grass and falls in big chunks from the sky for hours. And then after an afternoon of sunshine, it goes away, and I am left with a few pictures to tide me over until next time. Here are the rules of the first snow.

1. Drop everything and walk in it. Cancel your meetings, take a long lunch, wake up at an obscene hour, do what you have to do, but walk in the snow

2. Accessorize. Snow means it is time for the hats and the gloves and the scarves. I don't care if you wear a coat, but you absolutely must have coordinated snow accessories.

3. You are now permitted one Christmas album. The rest have to wait until after Thanksgiving, so choose wisely. I recommend the MoTab one on which Track 6 is Wilberg's "The First Noel". It's pretty much the best Christmas music ever.

4. Catch snow on your tongue. I don't care how many people are watching or how much of a crazy person you look like, you must catch AT LEAST one snowflake on your tongue.

5. Sing (or Hum) the parts you know of "My Favorite Things" including the line "snowflakes that stay on my nose and eyelashes", you have permission to do a Julie Andrews accent and everything.

6. Drink (at least) one mug of cocoa (with mini Marshmallows) in order to properly honor the moment.

You all know that I am a very sensible person. Some have gone so far as to call my realism cynicism. So you can see that if I of all people can turn mushy and cheesy, you must have the responsibility to join me in the ritual. Honestly people, it's the only time of year I regret being alone.