Much ado about nothing

Having lived here for twenty-three years, I should know by now that the weather people's enthusiastic blabberings about first snow usually turns out to be a big nothing. Once again, they didn't disappoint. It was a mere smattering, a dusting, just enough to form interesting patterns on everything. The woods were very pretty with bright, dappled light dancing around on the ground and every snow-laced twig and leaf.

The best thing this morning was the doggie's reaction when I let her out for her morning ablutions. She stopped at the top of the steps, sniffed and playfully grabbed a mouthful of the white stuff. On our walk she was more playful than usual too.

Down at the end of the street the morning air was suddenly filled with a loud burst of whooping and hollering and the sound of skateboards on the asphalt. A pack of exuberant, young skiers on modified rollerblades, full gear and ski poles came flying down the steep cross street. Just the sight of a few flakes is enough for the die-hards to start their seasonal conditioning. I felt like yelling: "It will all be gone in a few hours!" but that would have burst their bubbles, wouldn't it.