Those are snow flakes.
There are not many of them there in the picture (it turns out there is a distinct limit to how long I’m willing to stand barefoot in the snow in my pajamas waiting for snow flakes to alight upon my knitting in a picturesque fashion), but quite a few in the yard. It’s our first snow of the winter and it’s a good one. It’s coming down hard as I type this. The grass is covered and it’s starting to stick to the sidewalks. I wholeheartedly approve. I will be making soup and bread and maybe a pie to properly mark the occasion. All of you thin-blooded types who take unreasonable delight in the scorching soul-crushing heat of summer? This is pay back. It’s my turn to flit about like a deranged elf informing anyone within earshot that it’s snowing and I’m happy about it. I won’t be quite this enthusiastic come the end of February, but for now? Unrestrained glee.
It was snowing when I woke up, so (after doing the requisite first snow dance of joy and informing The Boy of the important event) I grabbed my little neck warmer and finished the last half a dozen rows, bound off, rolled him up, and took him outside to introduce him to his nemesis. He fared quite well. He’s off for a bit of a soak and block now, but will be ready to report for duty by tomorrow. All I have to do is find buttons.