Here in the Twin Cities we're very used to snow. It comes every year, it beats the ever living crap out of us for several months in a row, and then it melts, we have a lovely summer and forget about it until winter comes 'round again. It's a pattern that is, if not comforting, at least familiar.
This year we had an exceptionally mild fall and our winter, though cold, lacked snow for much longer than normal. Two days before Christmas it started snowing. And it didn't stop until two days after Christmas.
It has since been varying degrees of yuck outside and it's been heavy hunker down mode for some time.
But here's one thing that most Minnesotans won't tell you:
Snow is pretty. Don't get me wrong - it's horrible. It's a pain in the ass, it's a hassle, it's cold and not fun and guh. It's tiring. Mixed with the ice, wind, cold and total lack of sunlight snow and winter are terrible. But the snow itself? It's pretty. It covers everything in this lovely blanket of marshmallowy goodness. Everything looks quiet and peaceful and sweet. It sucks to live with, but damn is it nice to look at.
This is taken out my parents' patio window on Christmas Eve night. That is straight snow nearly up to the seat of those chairs: it's not drifted or wind blown snow, that's just how it fell. It was ridiculous. I do love the reflection of the Christmas lights in the window, I think it adds a certain whimsy to the scene.
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