This morning, we woke up to a stillness like no other.
Meteorologists predicted snow yesterday, even issued a Winter Storm Warning, but I didn’t believe them. Often, when we get that kind of hype over an approaching storm system with the possibility of snowfall, they turn out to be wrong.
This time, they were not.
I had trouble going to sleep last night. Our bedroom has skylights, and when we turned out the light, as soon as my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I realized it didn’t seem dark at all. The light outside seemed more like a full-moon glow, only slightly rosy. Around one AM, I got up and walked through the house, looking out every window, and sure enough, a little snow was falling. Not much. That would be it, I thought, but still, I couldn’t sleep. I lay there anticipating, like a child.
So we woke up to about three inches of snow, and now it’s nine-thirty, and the sun is out, and it’s beautiful, but melting fast. I went out to take these few shots an hour ago, and I could already hear the dripping, dripping.
But here you are, a memento of a Southern storm. No ice. Just that beautiful silence and a white topping over everything.
My small stones are faltering, but maybe this post will count.