I kind of have a "love hate" relationship with snow. Big, soft, velevety snowflakes on Christmas Eve=love. Nasty frozen sleet and driving snow as I am fighting my way along a highway=hate. I grew up in an area with LOTS of snow. I mean lots. Like I usually had to wear my Halloween costume over my snowsuit, and usually had to go in 3 or 4 times to dry out (it usually snowed that night). And I am not a big snow sports person (is that even an expression?) I have bad knees-have had them for years (update for those who are new to this blog-I have had many many knee surgeries, and have been off either full time or part time on disability pensions, until this year. I had a total knee replacement in March, and I am not yet 50). So skiing, skating, snowshoeing-all of those things are out. Plus the issues with arthritis-the cold is an aggravator. But there is nothing like watching my daughter come in from making snowpeople, with her cheeks all red and a grin from ear to ear. Or watching the Bear romp in the snow, eating snowballs and laughing with his mouth wide open. Or the incredible satisfaction of a newly shovelled driveway, when the whole street is out after a storm. I am a teacher, and the occasional snow day is really quite a nice treat. (although our Board has a policy that even though it is not safe for the children and the bus drivers to go to school, it is perfectly safe for teachers to go, and it is expected that we get there, or lose a day's pay)(So I wait for the snow plow)(and get there when I think it is safe). Snow for me is the start of dark days, cold weather, and miserable Februarys. But snow is also sparkling cold, fresh air, little kids having fun. I have mixed feelings over it all. (But I am not ready to wear a black arm band on the day of the first snow).