Announced by all the trumpets of the sky,
Arrives the snow, and, driving o’er the fields,
Seems nowhere to alight: the whited air
Hides hills and woods, the river and the heaven,
And veils the farm-house at the garden’s end.
The sled and traveler stopped, the courier’s feet
Delayed, all friends shut out, the housemates sit
Around the radiant fireplace, enclosed
In a tumultuous privacy of Storm.
Ralph Waldo Emerson–1856
Makes me home sick. I love faking snow, especially at night when the world around you is quiet.
Falling snow. I hate auto correct sometimes. ?
Hi Terrie, I know what you mean. Even though today was terribly cold, the snow coming down a little at a time was beautiful. And I too hate auto-correct. Cheryl Barrows, formerly Carlson, sent a nice serene photo of snow up near Cumberland.