It was the first snowfall of the season and it won’t be the last snowfall of the season. It was the snowfall all children long for, greet with words like “Oooohh mannnnnn,” imagine three-segment people with top hats, days without teachers. It was the kind of snowfall adults of a certain age anticipate with dread, conjuring moments of stark terror in an automobile, late or missed appointments, scuttled hope-filled dates.
It was the snowfall we all know will arrive, yet never seem prepared for, clothed for, provisioned for, or desired for.
It was the snowfall, that for adults of a certain age, generates images of simpler times, deeper snows, visions of three-segment people in the yard, and words like, “Oooooh mannnnn.”
It was the first snowfall of the season, the one that on the next day reminds us and leaves us with the unanswered question: When the snow melts, where does the white color go?
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