Powder

.

It's been snowing for the last two and a half days. Georgia, our loyal sentry has witnessed every flake come fluttering-  at some point earlier in the week however, pelting-  down from heaven.

And for the first time in three years my Sorels came out of storage.

In a region where snow seldomly comes around, this storm was cause for two things:

1. A ghost town. Because everyone panics.
    Because a good number of drivers' brains
    turn to slush at the sight of this pristine white
    thing.  The evidence: desserted highways and
    sparsely filled parking lots. 

2. One's inner child comes out to play. However,
    unless one has a state of the art sled to race
    down a hill, this particular type of snow ain't
    much use for anything else. See, the
    temperature today didn't get over 29ºF, which
    means the snow was so cold, it was "dry",
    commonly referred to as "powder". 

    Here's a quick lesson for you relatives in the
    warmer climates of God's green earth, dry
    snow does not stick. It's like trying to form
    dough with flour alone; you can't. If you can't
    make pan de sal with flour alone, then we
    north hemispherians cannot make snow men,
    snow balls, or snow castles with powder.

    The evidence: bucket-formed columns of snow
    that crumble at the slightest touch. 

The inner child in me eventually had a tantrum. So she went inside where the disgruntled adult takes over, and pours her grievances onto the Internet for you to witness.

.