Morning has broken
Like the first snowfall, on a new day. Catchy lyrics for a hymn or something, should the need arise. The joy of the first snowfall.
No doubt the novelty will pass quickly, but at this point even the dog is in a state of euphoria. Maybe it’s the detail that the world now resembles her; almost white with black shiny points sticking out. Watching her try to eat the snowflakes, all of them, before they hit the ground is a sign that fruitless efforts are not limited to mankind. I won’t count the holes started to find a short way to China.
Maybe it comes from the snow angel mentality, where we can grow a set of virtual wings, without any Photoshop ingenuity. The first snowfall is much more pleasing to the eye than the first rainfall.
The tree wears it well. Looks better than the leaves did, even when the frostcolours were in season. Somebody took the time to clear off the walkway (probably the only time it will be clear until next spring). My winter boots are ready for the storm, should it come (thank you Deanta).
