November lulled me into complacency. With mild days and sunshine tempering the dropping temperatures, I happily ignored the calendar creeping toward December. Michigan weather isn’t known for its temperate nature, so logically I knew we were one wink from Mother Nature away from freezing.
She winked today.
Snow fell, less than 24 hours after Ryan finished cleaning leaves out of the gutters for the last time of the season. Fat flakes, large and wet lazily came down. I marveled at the beauty of the first snow, the beauty I appreciate every year for approximately however long it takes before I go outside and feel the bite of the air on my skin and the dampness of snow sneaking under my scarf.
We weren’t ready for it.
The kids, of course, were ready the second they spotted the first flake in the sky. We blinked tiredly when they burst into our room to tell us about it, and they thankfully retreated to play for a little while before asking about going outside.
By the time I walked downstairs, they were pulling on outside clothes, and that’s when I realized I literally wasn’t ready for the snow.
There’s not a pair of snow pants in the house for Dylan, who apparently grew sixteen feet in the last 9 months. Both kids need snow boots, and I need thicker socks to cushion my always-cold feet against the freezing tiles of the kitchen when the kids refuse to close the doors in their excitement to get outside. I sighed and reminded him he would actually survive in just his jeans, though I knew it meant extra laundry. Of course, by the time they played out there three separate times, there were enough wet socks and gloves and scarves for an entire load of laundry, so I needed have stressed about wet jeans.
They pulled out sleds, though we didn’t actually go sledding. They slid on their bellies and stood on the sleds to “snow surf,” and they ate snow from the ground even when I half-heartedly reminded them to be sure they were ingesting clean snow and now errant leaf bits.
Abbey built a snowman, though some of her details were obscured later in the evening. Snow kept falling, and from inside I thought of how perfect the big flakes looked against the trees, like something fake snow machines try so hard to replicate in movies.
I slid on the roads when I drove, just a little, and I gave a little thanks that the snowfall happened on the weekend, when our schedule allows for extra driving time and hot chocolate at 9:30 a.m. when the kids needed to warm up for the first time.
The first snow is the best snow, even when you don’t feel ready for it.