I am not always a fan of firsts.
First day of school? I was the mother thinking, “Yes, you look adorable lugging that crisp oversized backpack on your tiny shoulders and looking at me with that big missing-tooth smile, but wouldn’t you like to stay home with me a few more years? I can teach you things. I think.”
First gear. Bo-ring.
First base. The position they stick you in when you have long arms and aren’t particularly agile.
Firstfruits. I like to give my produce a little more time to ripen on the vine.
First snow. Argh!
I’m always a little cranky when I see that first snowfall push its way into the weekly forecast. The prospect of snow means slippery roads, wet mittens, missing mittens, fights over who gets to wear what mittens, clomping boots that leave wet prints on the carpet, cold.
In preparation and anticipation, that first snowfall does not excite me.
In execution, though, the first snow takes my breath away.
I like the way it gussies up tree branches so recently laid bare. I enjoy looking at tracks in the snow and wondering which creature made them. Were they moseying or in a hurry? Did they walk alone or with a furry friend?
I love a good snow angel and a hearty snowball fight. And you know I love to sled ride.
We had our first measurable snow of the year this week and, while it wasn’t enough to require a shovel (thankfully), it was just enough to remind us of all the magic winter offers us if we just stop grumbling and get outside to enjoy it.