We are preparing for a blizzard.

This morning the sky was robin’s-egg blue, and the white winter sun made the snow blaze. It was warm all day, and the snowpack melted, compacted, and retreated in preparation for the coming onslaught. Right now, if I go outside and get a handful of the stuff it’s wet and heavy, ideal for packing into snowballs and building snowmen. This snow is from a few days ago, and when it fell it was light and airy, like flakes of sugar. It’s taken a few days of sunshine to condense it into the dense, serious stuff we have now.

Unfortunately, there’s no time for building much of anything, now. The weather reports predict a 100% chance of snow tonight. (Total certainty: the weathermen don’t often allow themselves such confidence.) They have red blazons across their bottoms warning people not to travel, to beware of cold, to stock their pantries. There will be wind and darkness, and in the morning we’ll wake up to find the air whirling with newborn snow. It will cover over the cantankerous slush of the last snowfall with fresh, youthful flakes, reblessing the landscape with untrodden white.

When we were little, my brother treasured the look of a freshly snowed lawn. He would get angry with anyone who marred the pristine white. I think he had the right idea.

I love winter.