We are twice-blessed today. We woke up to snow, walked through drifts as deep as six inches in the meadows, and half of that where the trees are the thickest and form shadowy tunnels. It was a glorious outing, and my lungs worked as I trudged happily along.
I understand it is the day before Thanksgiving (our second blessing), but it feels more like Christmas. What is it about the first heavy snow of the season that transforms a 62-year-old into a 6-year-old?
Whatever it is, it's pure magic wrapped in bows of sparkling wonder, innocence, and joy.
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