We don’t get a lot of snow in the greater Seattle area, but several times a year we do get a little dusting, especially at our place, where the elevation is slightly higher. Most of the time, it doesn’t stick. It just falls gently from the sky and melts before hitting the ground.
But yesterday, I looked up from my knitting needles and noticed the white flakes dancing just outside the window. I sat, completely mesmerized by the falling snow.
Having grown up around snow in the Midwest, you’d think it wouldn’t be a novelty. But, for whatever reason, it never gets old for me. Nature has a way of nudging us slightly (and sometimes not so slightly) with its beauty to get our attention.
It felt indulgent just to sit there and watch the snow while enjoying a cup of coffee under the warmth of my crocheted afghan.
An act of self-care for sure.