I woke and glanced over at the clock. 3:46 am.

How much had it snowed?

Lying in my nest of blankets, I imagined piles of snow draping the garden, layered upon the table like a huge dome of frosting on a cake. Did we have a foot? More?

I already knew we didn’t have school, so there was no need to get up and wait for a call. I closed my eyes and snuggled deeper, willing my body to fall back to sleep.

My mind had other ideas.

Maybe I should just go to take a quick look?

I’d deliberately left the outside light on overnight, in case I woke during the night, and wanted to take a quick peek from upstairs to gauge the snowfall. But I’d slept through and now it was morning. Well, sort of. Still, I could just take a look. But I know myself well enough to know that once I’m up and out of bed, I’m up.

“Go back to sleep,” I told myself. “The snow will still be there when you wake up!”

So, I tried. Really, I did. I lay there beneath the blankets, my eyes closed, sternly telling myself to sleep. I was warm. I was cozy. I was dying to know how much snow there was!

Finally at 4:03 I gave up. I couldn’t resist any longer. I had to know.

I reached for my glasses, put on my robe, and tiptoed out of the bedroom and into the hallway. Then I peeked out of the frosted window to the garden below. Mounds of sparkling white draped everything in sight. My eyes scanned the scene, utterly delighted by how the heavy snowfall transformed the world outside my door. It was absolutely beautiful– a generous gift from Winter, and one that was well worth getting out of bed early!

No matter how old I get, I simply can’t resist the lure of of a fresh snowfall.