It’s no secret that I wave my Texas Flag loud and proud. There must be something in the water that naturally endears each of us to the State at birth. Like a cult-like, massive dose of school spirit. (Although, I never really had school spirit.) With the exception of four years in the North Texas, I spent most of my life in the South, which means we almost never saw this magical fluffy white stuff. I do recall the snow storm of 1985. It dropped about a foot on the unsuspecting land. My sister and I decorated our first snow man and the neighbor ingeniously tied a rope to a laundry basket and pulled all of us kids around in a home-made sled. My next major memory was on my honeymoon with Capt. Awesome. November, in Santa Fe. We walked into Maria’s (side note: they have an amazing assortment of delicious margaritas) as the wind kicked up white flurries all around. I squealed like a little school girl while Awesome laughed at me.

Fast forward to 2014. It was a crazy winter, my first in New England, and the worst they'd seen in 5 years! February decided to launch a full on attack bringing repeated drops in temperatures to the teens. Oh God! So, with the frequent snow days, I decided to experience it fully…and in ALL it’s glory, marching out with camera and tripod in hand.

It truly was like another world. I had magically stepped through the wardrobe and transported myself into Narnia. Is Mr. Tumnus around the corner awaiting my arrival?

The snow covered everything in sight, including myself. Alas, I finally know what it feels like to have snow flakes on my nose and eye lashes! Oh, and a minor case of frost bite. Small sacrifices for art. For the winter experience.