It arrived stealthily in the night. It came disguised as cold rain, gradually changing to "thick" rain, and when I woke this morning there was a thick and fluffy cushion of white. The skies continue to shed, and I am sitting curled up on my couch watching the soft tumble of flakes.
Days like this are perfect. I have no need to be anywhere. I have plenty of non-pressing matters to attend to, such as a stack of books that wish to be read; some cooking magazines that need to be drooled over; a pot of chicken soup that is waiting to relieve any chill that caresses me, and; lurking somewhere in the cupboard a can of cocoa waiting to be frothed together with milk for a perfect December afternoon treat.
These, my friends, are the days. A snowy December Sunday when one can allow themselves the luxury of kicking back, stretching out and putting everything off until tomorrow. Days like these are few. Enjoy it, knowing that all the planning and hard work that you have put in for the other 345 days of the year are paying off here, on this day.
You can see that someone on my street wasted no time taking advantage of the fresh snowfall.