I'm not sure what it is about snow that turns me into this unlikely combination of an old woman and a third grader (along with her), but she comes out every time it begins to snow. With those flakes resembling hundreds of unique, tiny parachuters who just pulled their ripcord, the early flakes excite me as if we work-from-home people get snow days off — I know, you don't pity me — whereas the soft white blanket covering the grass, trees and bushes fills me with a peaceful serenity that makes me want to knit and drink hot tea and hot cocoa and read a book while under a non-Snuggie blanket in front of the fireplace, all at once. And wear a scarf. And a hat. I like cold weather. Ahem. I'm back now.
Now, I know it was just barely an inch of snow, , and that's not much. But I'm an Alabamian turned Nashvillian, and this was the first snow we had seen since we moved to Nashville almost three years ago. I didn't intentionally stay up late to see the unlikely post-midnight snowfall, but, considering what a night owl I am and all, I was so thankful to look out the window and see the flurry-filled courtyard out our window.
There's a pivotal decision any married couple has to be prepared for when you live in the South: Is snow something your spouse prefers to be woken for, or would they rather sleep through it? I took the risk and woke Jonathan up (Newlywed game: 0, Caley: 1!), and we began making plans to take a break from our desks the next morning.
We walked to our neighborhood coffee shop here in Germantown, The Red Bicycle (you've probably seen me refer to it as my office), and I had to take a few pictures and drag Jonathan in front of the camera, too. Because, hey, I haven't seen this stuff in three years, because I love winter photo shoots, and because I think this guy's pretty cute.