It turns the wet and the gray into white and gleaming.
It's purely delightful to be the first one to leave your footprints in the fresh layer of white on the ground.
It's fun to stand ad let the flakes catch in your eye lashes and hair.
I think of Narnia.
"Every stick and stone you see, every icicle is Narnia."
"It's an awfully big wardrobe."
I'd never really thought about this before, but as Em and I wandered around, taking pictures and scooping up snow, I began to realize just how tough the Americans were to have spent a winter in the Ardennes.
Obviously, it wasn't out of their own choice, but they did what had to be done.
Thrown out into the woods in summer uniforms and a frantic effort to push back the bulge, digging foxholes, only to have them filled up with snow, frostbite, sleeping outside in the snow...
All the odds.
They were tough.
And I was complaining about the cold when I hadn't even been outside an hour!
Ouch. :P
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