I hate to say I told you so . . . but I told you so: SNOW!

Let me tell you a little something about myself. I have a sixth sense; it has to do with snow. 

When I was a little girl, growing up in New Jersey, a place more well-endowed with snowfall than my current home, I could wake up in the morning with no knowledge of weather predictions and after just one inhale of morning breath, before my eyes were even open, know, deep in my bones, that magic had graced my world during the night. I'd jump from my bed, run to the window, and part the blinds with my little fingers, and sure enough--the world had changed into a wonderland blanketed with soft and glistening white. 

Seriously, this happened all the time. I just knew. The air changes when it snows.

I love snow. I would trade cold, snow-frequented winters for hot, muggy summers any day. When there is snow in the forecast, I become giddy. I check the weather channel every five minutes just to make sure they haven't reneged their predictions. Don't begin calling me naive, I've lived in the south for long enough, I don't believe them every time and I laugh in the face of irrational, way premature cancelations, and the mad rush for milk and bread at the slightest "chance of flurries." But I've been tracking snow predicting verbiage for long enough to read between the lines. Chance of snow, means if the hype gets up high enough you may miss school, but forget about snowmen. BUT when you hear Snow {notice the omission of 'chance of'}, expect 2-4 inches, well then you can begin doing the snow dance. 

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On Friday I was driving to work, and the thought crossed my mind, My, it's almost March, and still no snow. But March is a great month for snow, and I'm still holding on to the hope that we'll see snow yet.

I began doing the snow dance on Saturday, approximately around 3:00 in the afternoon. But did anyone join in with me (yes, my sweet husband did)? (but besides him,) NO! Oh there were nay-sayers and "realists" (another word for pessimist), a regular bunch of doubting Thomas's. Those who wanted to squash my winter-white dream. But I just laughed in their faced and continued with my snow dance. It's all about faith.

And sure enough, as you all now know as you sit shaking your head in shame, on Sunday morning snow came to Birmingham. And this was not a half-hearted snow. This was a persistent-late-into-the-day, big-beautiful-flaked, perfect-for-snowmen-and-snowballs, thick-cover-on-the-ground, SNOW!

And it was delightful. Thanks to all who enjoyed it with me! What a fun day!