Snow. Better late than never.

At the beginning of December, it was five degrees celcius and there was no snow anywhere in the Old Strathcona area. I could go outside wearing my fall coat and sneakers, and if I didn't have a pair of mittens in my backpack, no problem. I was concerned that this winter would be like so many others in recent memory: stupidly balmy from December to the middle of February, where dust and dirt would accumulate on the iceless streets and fields of dead brown grass. Then, a short cold snap full of snow, followed by a quick melting and a month full of mud. Not to mention the agricultural industry complaining about the lack of precipitation, and having to sing "I'm Dreaming of a White Christmas" with the most pleading of tones. (I like cold and snow; so sue me.)

But lucky for me, this past weekend marked a thirty degree drop in temperature, and a good couple centimeters of snow! THIS is what December is about, baby: rosy cheeks, cups of warm liquid, and curling up in an afghan your Nana made for you, usually accompanied with a good book.

Of course, since this is the second-last day before classes are over, replace "a good book" with "my Anatomy and Physiology notes for the Final in one week". La plus ca change...