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This time change is a bugger. My internal clock tells me to get up at 4:45ish. Fall back means closer to 4:00. Not that I mind getting up before the rest of the world, because in that respect, I actually quite enjoy it. (I'm a ridiculous morning person. It's just the way I roll.) But, I don't really have anything to do. I mean, sure, there are things to do. I could read. But I'm not crazy about reading first thing in the morning. I don't know why. Just not the time when anything will stick. I'd love to work out, but... we're in a tiny condo and, thus, there is no room for a treadmill or elliptical (sadly). My gym is 25 minutes away so I couldn't drive to the gym, work out, drive home, get myself & the kids ready, drop them off, and then get to work in time.

Oh, the dilemma. What to do at 4:00 in the morning?

The good news? It snowed. Not enough to stick to the roads or sidewalk, but the grass and trees are covered, and the early morning light is reflecting off the snow crystals making me feel all giddy. I don't know what it is about snow that I love so much. Maybe it brings me back to my childhood and all the fun we had when it snowed. Maybe it's because I love to frolic.

Maybe it's because I love sweaters and scarves, and getting bundled up nice and cozy. Maybe it's because I love little red noses from the chill of the cold air. Maybe it's because I love the puffs of hot breath that rise from our noses and mouths.

Maybe it's because at the end of the day, I know there's a cup of hot something (coffee, chocolate, soup) that will warm me from the insides. Maybe it's because I love the peacefulness and hush of fresh fallen snow. And if you listen close enough, you can actually hear the flakes hit the ground. Maybe it's because I love looking up into the sky and seeing how far I can see before the individual flakes just blend together. (It's surprisingly far.)

Or maybe it's just because it's beautiful.

Or maybe it's all of it together.

I love conversations in the snow. I love making snow angels. I love making snowmen (or women... or children...or other things). I love snowball fights.  I love the crunch of the snow under my feet as I walk. There's just such a mystery about snow, like it's keeping some secret it's willing to tell if you're willing to listen. 

I'm glad it's here. And I'm glad to be in a place that is guaranteed to see some, rather than just hoping this is the year we might get a day or two.

I really am blessed to be here. Every day still, I'm overwhelmed with gratitude to be just exactly where I belong, amongst people who "get" me, in a landscape that inspires and breathes life into me where before there were empty places left wondering if I'd ever find my way home.

I'm home. It feels good to be here.