shhh! it's a secret!

Shh! Quiet! Come here--closer, closer. Want to know a secret? Do you? Come under the table with me, and I'll tell you. Oops--watch your head. Shh. Ready?

Deep down inside, I'm a romantic. Gasp! Shock!

It's true. I may not cry during movies, or particularly like babies, or send 'touching' greeting cards, but I'm vulnerable to romance nonetheless.

This very morning, as I backed the car out of my garage at 7:39, I was positively floored. The sun wasn't quite up yet, so everything was that silvery gray color--except for the white, white snow. I'd say six fresh inches. As my little Cavalier pushed its way down my long gravel driveway, the snow was deep enough to crest over my hood, sending silvery white waves of flakes up before me. It was lovely.

And then I noticed the trees.

The lower half of my driveway is wooded on both sides, and this morning it was a fairy land. Every branch of every tree was coating with several inches of snow, all white and graceful and perfectly still.

I had to stop the car. My heart practically pounded with the force of all that beauty. I guess I'm not always so tough, after all.