There's a kind of skittishness/excitment when the first major storm of the season is coming your way. When you've lived in snow country your whole life, you get the signs: you don't see snow coming unless the sky is a slate-gray. You can't taste snow 'til it gets here. When it falls, it muffles everything, as if you're walking in a snowglobe. You can't touch snow until it comes, either. So that leaves...feeling snow. Not touching it. *Feeling* it coming. You can tell, in your bones and in your soul. You calmly go about your business of battening down the hatches. The scraper? It's in the car year 'round except for June, July, and August, so check. The shovel? Ready by the back door--check. Candles and batteries? Checkeroo. If it's a big storm, check to see if you've got a good portion of non-perishable food. All those people who run out to buy milk? Get water, juice or soda instead. They won't spoil if the electricity goes off. Car in the garage? Check. Quilt? Check for snuggling at the computer or reading a book while the snow falls!
When it comes, the world is so beautifully quiet. The snow whispers down, sirens sound off in the distance, a car squeaks by carefully.