See those dots?  Those giant, fluffy, white dots?

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.