I awoke to a slightly different light coming through our bedroom window, and I had a hunch. I sat up, peering into the outside world. My hunch was right—a thin layer of white powder covered the ground. We had received the first snow of the season, the first snow in our new house.
Evan and I hiked up the little ridge for an hour before work as more snow slowly fell. Someone had been there before us—a deer, or several. We heard their movements in the small ravine below.
The first snow is always magical. By the end of winter, it tends to grow old, along with the frigid temperatures. But for now, I’ll admit, I’m kind of excited about the beginning of another season once again.