Don't worry. It doesn't look like this anymore. But it did when I left for Denver six days ago. Yikes, was that a scary drive.
Prior to my life in North Dakota, the first snow was always a happy occasion. First snow meant it was time to think about winter break, cardigan sweaters and white lights that twinkled. Children wrote wish lists for Santa and adults baked with gingerbread and cookie cutters. Finally, you could break out Mariah Carey's "All I want for Christmas is you" and people's faces would turn from "the eff, Katie?" to "the hell, Katie?"
Three years ago, four to five inches of snow meant you had school, because crews could plow, push and melt that before the 8 a.m. bell.
Here, its an event of disastrous proportions: like, leave work early or you WILL NOT make it home. FOUR TO FIVE INCHES.
My snow anger melted, however, when I saw the green trees and their snow-covered branches. I don't care how Grinch-y you are, those saplings sure are purdy.