Then, the Snow

The snow started this morning while we were at church. It was coming down in golfball-sized clumps of wet snowflakes, covering cars and grass, sticking to trees, but mostly melting on the streets. It doesn't snow much in Atlanta, so there were a succession of kids with sleds, makeshift and otherwise, going down the hills in front of Morningside Presbyterian. Iain went sledding first by himself, then played with the boys next door, and then went sledding again before finally coming inside.

I took the dog for a walk around the block while the snow was still falling heavily. Bullwinkle is a black Laborador retriever, with big feet with webbed toes. He didn't mind walking in the slush along the curb, and the large falling snow flakes made him sort of look like the opposite of a Dalmatian. The family at the corner of Cumberland and North Morningside made a great snowman. The mother told me that her children didn't know how to make a snowman, that they were leaving too much of this to her to do. I told her that was because her children lived in Atlanta, and if she wanted them to know how to make snowmen, she needed to move to Michigan. But they made a great snowman, with a scarf and a hat, a carrot nose, and figs for eyes.


It's now late afternoon and the snow is still falling, but it is not as heavy as it was earlier. The sky is gray and the gutters are full of slush and cold water. It it gets cold tonight, the city will be covered in ice tomorrow. A Sunday afternoon with snow means kids and sleds and snowmen; a Monday morning with ice is another mattter entirely. About once an hour this afternoon there has been the sound of thunder. Snow, and thunder. It's unsettling.

Iain is reading his book now, in front of the fire. I guess it is time for me to think about what we have in the house for dinner.