The morning has a grey pallor as the first real winter day approaches from the west. 
The first bit of moisture that the front range has seen for months. Local forecasters say that it will first come in the form of light rain, and then there is a 90% chance of snow. However, due to unseasonably warm temperatures (it is November after all) for the last two months of 60° to 80° daily, the snow will melt as soon as it hits the grass, they say.
The trees have long since shed their colorful leaves and left a fallow landscape of brittle bones all around us to endure the winter months. The grasses have faded from lush green to toasted tan and they are swaying lightly in the wind. Lilac bushes have all but shed their leaves and the Shasta Daisies are an almost forgotten memory. Looking at the Daylilies, withered in their bed, I think of the months when the cats dove in and out of their fluffy green fronds playing hide and go seek, then playfully pouncing on one another! Now they try in vain to hide in the brittle Pampas grass, revealing their secret hiding place as every movement rattles the shrub like an alarm sounding in a quiet building.
The air in the yard is crisp, but not so cold that a coat must be worn. I’m comfortable for a few minutes moving around, but sitting at my outdoor table as I’ve done so often for many months now has lost its draw. Many days I relish the chance to sit with my notebook and a glass of wine while soaking in the sun. Of course, this is an open invitation to my feline friends who assume I am there only to hold and pet them. Not today though; the lounging of myself and the cats must wait for a warmer day.
At 10:00 AM it is now darker than it was at 7:30 this morning. The clouds have covered us like a blanket but they have still brought no moisture. It is darker near the mountains, and the cover is layered in multiple tones of gray as they continue to roll slowly from west to east enveloping us in promise of relief from a dry crackling fall. The cats, with their coats fluffy and wild, have prepared for this day throughout the fall. Today as they stalk the back yard, frolicking in the cool air, they appear excited for the prospect of the cool days to come; not so excited that they won’t slip off to their warm, dry, bed soon, but excited nonetheless!
All morning, the air has been so still. Now though, the Ponderosas out my window are starting to sway softly and the layers of clouds have pulled together making the light softer, not so ominous. At 10:23, the first flakes of snow pass my window falling from north to south in a diagonal fashion. They have not been preceded by rain as suggested by local forecasts. The flakes are few; sporadic. They vary in size and shape. Some are still coming diagonally, but others resist and fall straight down defying the gentle breeze.
Most days there are Magpies or Woodpeckers out my window but today they are absent. Probably tucked warmly into their winter nests. I do not fully understand or claim to know
the habits of these birds, but they are here at times that astonish me; apparently, they are permanent residents. I go to the front porch to be closer to the change in atmosphere; first I hear a bird. Not my Magpies or Woodpeckers but something else; smaller with a high trill that seems to be a bit desultory in nature. Perhaps it should have left weeks ago but was beguiled by the uncharacteristic beauty of a long Indian Summer.
Expecting to catch a flake and watch it melt, I am disappointed. They are too few and far between to capture. The flakes elude me but the cold does not. My stocking feet absorb the chill from the decking, and shivering I return to the warmth of my office to await more change, much like the birds and the cats. We are all content to watch the storm from relative comfort.
The air is white on the horizon two miles away, and dark out my window once again. I imagine the white air is a bank of snow coming towards me, but more likely it is a foggy pall that is insulating the land with cold. Darker still, the candle in my office and the brightness of my screen glow as if it is 5:00 PM instead of 11:10 AM. The snow has found a steady pace however it is difficult to see as the flakes are rapid and minute. The white air, blocking all view of the foothills to the west, gives the impression that the foreground before it is shifting to white. It is further away by ½ a mile, and higher in elevation. The white air is coming closer; I can no longer see as far as I could 11 minutes ago.
As it snows harder, I can see the flakes clearly. They are coming rapidly and the decking out front is starting to cover. Stepping outside, the air is more fresh than I have smelled or felt for many days! As the moisture covers the stone on the house I am reminded of scents along a creek while water bubbles over rocks incessantly. There were no sounds of birds in the air, only the whispering sway of the tall pines thirstily awaiting their first winter drink.
Back inside I see that one quarter mile away, my view ends. The white wall of air is coming ever closer. Six young does walked past the edge of our yard barely stopping to browse. One was tempted by the young bows of our transplanted Ponderosa and I encouraged her forward with a tap on the glass.
A lightening of the sky shows the trees losing their green hue and turning to white. The snow is swirling heavier now, not just coming in straight lines. It seems to have taken on some circular motion.
Behind our house, close to where the does passed through, the driveway is sand and gravel; it is now the first surface to turn completely white. Forecasters suggested we would get so little snow that there would only be a trace. In 1 ½ hours’ time we have achieved that mark! Glad that nature has chosen to bestow this gift of moisture, the forecasters are forgiven.
Currently the snow is thick and soft, falling in feathery blankets. It comes straight then sideways, and then a swirl! Fast, slow, then fast and swirl!
Sultry light that filled my office moments ago has lifted and once again it’s a bright winter day! Choosing some winter favorites of down and wool from the hall closet, I venture out for a stroll. The air is invigorating! I feel like a kid off to the hill with my sled, but am armed only with a camera. The porches and paved drive are slushy. The only sounds are an occasional car on the road. The birds have settled and are waiting for the storm to subside. The cats refuse to venture out with me.
At ten after 1:00, it has slowed considerably, but at 2:15 it is thrumming at a steady pace once again. 
With my work for the day all but finished, I settle in with a hot cup of peppermint tea, a blanket, and a book appreciating the arrival of winter. Everything is covered; every tree, bush, weed and blade of grass is receiving a long awaited, savory sip of water.
I appreciate your time, and I value your feedback. Please take a moment to rate or share this article below. Your comments are also welcome. All the best to you, until next time ~ Jennifer
