Here 
we go again. The weathermen predicted some snow tonight with little to no accumulation. The result? It’s showering down by the bucketfulls out there with no end in sight. Since I shot this photo, the ground is now covered. Winter wonderland my foot! And it’s only 3:00 PM. Rush hour is yet to come.
I’ve never understood romantics who “just luvvv snow.” Don’t these people ever work for a living? Bing Crosby is fine for an evening in front of the tube; but when the alarm clock rings in the morning, somebody’s got to get out of bed and provide the goods and services that make the world go ’round. At that point, it’s goodbye White Christmas and hello John Henry.
(In case you don’t understand that allusion, John Henry was a steel drivin’ man who died with his hammer in his hand, Lawd Lawd, died with his hammer in his hand.)
I presently hear a load of kids who just got off the school bus in front of my house. As I look out my window, listening to their cries of glee, I see them frantically scooping up gobs of snow and flinging it at the bus, one another, and the world in general. Of course they love it. They’re just kids. They don’t have to make the world go ’round tomorrow morning. Daddy will shovel the car out of the snow, Mr. Baker will get the food to the stores, Mrs. Mommy will make sure that there’s food from the store, into the oven, and on the table. Mr. Sparks will make sure that electricity flows into the house and powers all the gizmos they play with when they’re tired of the cold. So kids love snow.
But why do grownups?