A thin sheet of white fluffy magic covered my house twice this week. Even the smallest amount of powder frosting makes the leafless trees and brown yard sparkle like a zillion stars dropped by for a visit. With no one disturbing them for hours, they glittered and glistened until the afternoon sun chased them away. As I watched them disappear, I thought of my mother’s comment every time it snowed. She called snow in the south a mixed blessing. Kids love it, dogs live for it, and parents pray it only comes on Saturday mornings.
What’s your snow tolerance—love it, leave it, or only on Saturdays?
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