“It’s snowing!” I tell my girls.
But that’s not what I want to tell them. I want to let them know that snow is sifting down from the sky as if the whole world is being sprinkled with powdered sugar.
“Look at snow now!” I tell my girls.
But what I want to say is, now it’s changed. It’s no longer sifting from the sky in tiny particles. Instead real flakes are drifting down from above, while every touch of the wind blows them this way and that in the world biggest ballet.
“It’s like it’s snowing!” I say today.
But it’s not snowing. Yesterdays fluffy snow is blowing off the tree branches in showers of glitter in the sunlight. And as far as I know, even though I was covered head to toe in snow that fell on me, there is no name for that kind of snow fall.
“It’s not really snowing.” I say this afternoon.
No, it’s no longer snowing, not even from the trees. Now the snow is now tiny pellets blowing from the ground in windy bursts that sting the face. I suppose one could say it is “drifting” but he ferocity of it all it makes that seem too kind a word for it.
“It’s snowing!”what a ridiculously, inadequate phrase.