excited as a kid on white christmas

There are some things age will never take from me.
My sweet tooth, a love of Winnie the Pooh, the lyrics to MMMBop (not by choice) and my excitement at seeing snow.
I had an early start one morning last week so I rugged up and headed off downstairs. I got to the door to the street and looked outside. Turned, raced back up the stairs, grabbed my camera, and headed out again.

South Hill, my current 'hood, is not remotely picturesque. Bubble tea signs do not make for attractive landscape. But with a good crop of snow on the streets, covering the cars and dusting the trees, Cantonese Canada actually looked pretty. I've been told snow in Vancouver is rare. It's happening more and more, but general advice was not to get my hopes up. The snow that scattered the streets by no means called for a day home from school. There was barely enough for a dwarf snowman. But it was snow.

Yes, I was that person walking down the street photographing the white stuff. The most striking image was the cemetery with the mountains in the background. I'd expected it to melt quickly, but there was still plenty around when I left the gym, when I left home for work later, and even when I caught the bus home from work. My joy wasn't easily contained either. In fact I was asked an embarrassingly number of times if it was the first time I'd seen snow. Which is isn't. Not by a long shot.

While the snow had made me giddy, I could feel my 'adult' reasoning edging it's way into my head. I was concerned about the lack of tread on my gumboots and walked cautiously to avoid ending up with my butt on the pavement and I left for work with a ridiculous amount of time to spare because the buses were travelling extremely slow, along with the rest of the traffic. The visual appeal also faded. The beautiful fall leaves I love didn't stand a chance. They became a tinted slop in the gutter mid-morning. The fog came in, which blocked my view of the mountains. The final straw was the newspapers on the ground that looked like they were in the first stage of recycling - a mush on the pavement. It was also damn cold. I might as well have stuck my fingers in the snow for all the good my gloves were doing me.

The next day, everything was still gleaming. And my excitement returned. There wasn't fresh snow, but the weather hadn't discouraged what was there. Car rooftops were still covered, the pavement still crunched underfoot and I was still imagining the snowman I'll build when it really snows. I walked to the bus stop enjoying my wintery surrounds, but this time sans-camera. After all, I am a local now.