I went to sleep last night dreaming of Swedish Interior Design white upon white, pickled wood, pale painted floors and white painted furniture. I woke to a view painted with shades of grey and white. White upon branch and the pale pallet of sky and snow. The neighborhood still dreams.
By evening every yard will reveal the occupants of its home -- snowmen will announce the presence of children. I am almost nostalgic enough to don my mittens and build one myself.
It is snow. The magical transformation of the world from dull mud and bare branch to a place of white wonderment. Where Christmas trees (balled and burlaped, living Christmas trees) wait upon the doorstep and buckwheat pancakes beckon from the kitchen.