The day after we moved to this tiny southern town lo, seven long long years ago, we awoke to a snow flurry. It was the lightest of flurries, with every flake melted within two hours. Our redneck neighbor Peedro came across our shared driveway with a cigarette dangling out of his mouth to introduce himself and say that not only was he recently released from prison for the third time, but we had arrived just in time for the seven year snowfall.

I forgot about the seven year snowfall until there started to be rumblings of a snowstorm and a mom at drama mentioned that it had been seven years since it last snowed. I didn’t hold my breath. Surely the Lord wouldn’t smile on me so much as to send my northern heart a snowstorm. But won’t He do it because it happened. The sky turned white, the air got nippy, and it snowed. As soon as it started, I rushed AB out to take our picture before it ended. I was GIDDY WITH JOY. I couldn’t believe it. Linus went out to experience his first snow, but he spent the time staring back at the warm house.

It snowed for hours. I rushed to every window to see every view. I took dozens of pictures in every light.
Everyone around town was in a panic about the weather. The place shut down for four days. Schools and doctors were closing before anything even happened. Once it did snow, the airways were abuzz with concerned citizens wondering if the roads were safe (they were) and if rainboots would provide the same warmth as snow boots (they do not). There were even posts on facebook asking for advice on how to build snowmen. Several people, who were just as uneducated as the asker, suggested adding water or mud to the snow. Never in all my years of snowman making have I added water to snow when building a snowman. 

I’m going to remember these days so fondly in the summer when it’s 106*.