This morning, walking the Homewood campus devoid of students, the trees pocking a solid grey sky, the air smelled of snow. I have wanted snow, a good dusting to cover the world, to walk with fat flakes melting on my cheeks. It was 50 degrees, so I figured the smell drifted on wind hundreds of miles away, from some place where the air shivered.
Later, waking from a nap, the air full of swirling white. We hiked the woods, tasted icy delciousness on our tongues, warmed up later under fleece.
Mother Nature is a fickle being.