flurries

The big thing around here has been snow. Most cities and populated areas in the Pacific Northwest are at low elevation and very temperate from the moderating effect of the ocean, so we rarely get snow. Up in the mountains and at higher elevations, there's plenty, so you can see it if you want.

It was very cold yesterday, with the high temperature barely above freezing. Today is about the same. Normally we only get a handful of hard frosts here in Portland, but it rains most days in the winter.

I still don't quite feel like writing about my Vancouver trip, but that story also involves snow, and more of it than this little bit:

I saw a shining white sliver of outside through our living room curtains, and my whole body flooded with the excitement of waking up to check for a school snow day. There was no snow, though. Only sun reflecting off shiny wet ground, possibly ice.

On the way to work I drive through a tunnel and then up and over the west hills. Often it's like a portal to another land, because the weather will be completely different on top of the hill or on the other side. Today snow crept up the hillside, crouched on top.

The parking lot at work had a dusting of snow, but not a smooth blanket. More like confetti, little round balls of snow sprinkled evenly. Walking to my building, flurries fell in odd pieces, some big, some small, some meandering slowly and taking their time like feathers floating, some headed straight down on a mission to emulate rain. It was enchanting, a shame to duck inside.