Tonight, there was this really perfect snow. I mean perfect. We've had maybe five or so flurries this year, and they've all been lovely (until they turned to slush, or, alternately, highly hazardous, slippery slicks of ice), but tonight, the snow was perfect. The flakes were minute and glittery, not too big, not at all wet--just minute pieces of silver fluttering through the air, dancing in the light cast by street lamps, and gradually accumulating into pools of silvery-white powder on the grass.
So just for the perfect snow, I might be able to forgive winter a little bit. Because as much as I am still a loyal daughter of spring and summer, there's just something about snow that makes the world better (besides all the terrible accidents and power outages, and old people breaking their hips when they slip on the ice, etc.). There are few things that feel as magical as looking out on a fresh snow in the morning. Everything is so crisp, bright, and unsullied. Maybe it's because I grew up in Virginia, and when we got snow (a "big" snow, i.e. worthy to close school, only came once or maybe twice a year), it was God's gift to Richmond, but I think my heart beats with a little more life when it snows in the winter.
Ok, back to my Vergil paper. This time tomorrow, my paper will be turned in, my presentation will be presented, and I will be a happy lady. Until Friday, when I have to study for my Greek midterm. BOO.
But still, yay for snow. Perfect snow, that is.
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