A Licky Boom Boom Down.

Snow. And I'm not talking about the infamous, Vanilla-Ice wannabe from the bowl-cut years of my youth, either. October 12, and snow. Not that I'm complaining. No, instead, I jumped around in excitement like a wee lad and made a beeline through the office to inform everyone not-so-blessed with a window that the first snow of the season was upon us. Undoubtedly, not the last.

Of course, nobody believed me. Then -- almost in unison -- came the crunching sound of blinds being pulled open like Christmas presents and the sight of people rubbing their eyes in disbelief like groundhogs in spring. Shnow, light and fluffy. Really. The first flash of flurries lasted about ten minutes and stuck to leaves and grass before the sun came out and buried them in the ground. Winds, wailing like Joe Cocker. Then the temperature dropped even more and, at writing, the ground is now covered like the distinguished salt-and-pepper hair of an aging actor. Just not in a bowl cut.