Typically, I'm a sunshine sort of gal. You summer types know what I'm talking about...the scent of fresh-cut grass, plucking ripe tomatoes from my garden, watching dandelion clocks float on the warm breezes, and walks to the snowball stand with my son. However, living in Pennsylvania one must come to terms that there will be, in fact, a nice, long winter. Luckily, I get the opportunity to see this season from a different viewpoint. My son does not see an endless driveway that must be shoveled. He does not worry about mopping up wet footprints on the wood floors. He does not wistfully page through seed catalogs, hoping winter speeds on by. He does not roll his eyes at the steel-grey skies and think, "Where's the sun already?!?" He sees the potential for icy forts, flying down the snow-packed hill on his sled, pelting mom and dad with snowballs, drawing pictures in the snow with a stick. He sees the magic that I, somehow, have forgotten.
So today I shall not worry about footprints on the floor, nor shoveling us out. I will not gaze longingly at my seed catalogs, nor will I curse the twelve inches of snow blanketing the land. I will work on building up our fort (we must keep out the ice minions, you know), and stockpiling a massive collection of snowballs. I will make snow angels with my boy and look at that grey sky and smile. I will remind myself that seeing the magic is like riding a bike - you never really forget if you take the time to notice.