When I awoke this morning, I expected to find our home encapsulated in a winter wonderland. Forecasters spoke of a storm that would be moving into Kansas overnight, dropping anywhere from 4-6" of snow. Unlike our home in the city, out here the snow plows take their time getting up our road and a few inches of the white stuff is enough to shut us down for a couple of days. My husband stopped by the grocery store on his way out of town and my son's friend, who was spending the night, was forewarned that he might be stranded with us for more than just overnight.
When I crawled out of bed, the sky hung heavy in shades of gray and a mist had coated the ground with moisture. But no snow. My son was bitterly disappointed, as in true 13-year-old boy fashion, he loves snow. Once in awhile a few flurries would brush the sky, teasing us with their whimsical folly, but the grass remained brown as they floated away.
By the time we took our overnight guest home, the air was filled with large snowflakes. They fell fast in mad abandon, promising accumulation. In places there was enough to scoop for snowball fights and sledding down hills.
Driving down the gravel road leading back home we rolled down the windows, letting the snowflakes tickle our noses and breathing in that unmistakable scent of cleansing winter.
Though it soon stopped and could only be counted as a "trace", its peace and beauty captured my heart and was a lovely precursor for this Christmas week.