The first flakes were falling just as I got home from work on Friday night. We'd been expecting it all day; there was that sharp chill in the air that just screamed "Snow's Coming!" People around me pulled their coats tighter and stepped up the pace, eager to get home as soon as possible. I spread my hands and turned my face to the heavens. There was something so magical about the first snowfall of the season that it always felt like an almost spiritual experience.
As I watched from my window, the wind rattled against the pane whipping up the light flakes into a flurry frenzy. By the time I woke up the next morning, it was a Bing Crosby dream world outside. But Ma Nature wasn't done.
The snow continued to fall all day on Saturday, then through most of the night and as I sip my Sunday morning cuppa it's still falling. Knowing just how ill prepared Scotland is for this kind of weather, I am already dreading the commute in to work tomorrow morning. But for now, I am warm and cosy on the couch watching hangover TV and very glad that I have nowhere to be, but at home.