White Morning

I can hear the wind screaming through the kitchen all the way from the other side of the flat.  There’s something about the direction the kitchen faces, seven floors up.  It creates a kind of vacuum.  The wind beats on the sides of the building as it whistles through.

Not the first snowfall of the  winter, but the first snowstorm.

I woke to the winter’s first snowfall two days ago.  Just a small layer, coating patches of ground, here and there.  That was Saturday.  Saturday was also my Thanksgiving.  When living abroad, holidays become flexible, modified.  But the weather understood.  Snow on Thanksgiving is almost as important a requirement as snow on Christmas.  At least for me.

But today, this is the kind of snow that sticks.  I don’t think I’ll be walking to town today.

Wroclaw, Poland