A couple of days ago, our area was blanketed with a thick snow. Slick roads and bone-chilling cold convinced me that I didn't have to go out, that anything I'd planned to do wasn't important. And so I stayed home, content and warm in our snug house, our cat, Harley, curled up next to me.
I remember (many) years ago how much joy my sister and I took in "snow days," those precious days when school was canceled and we were free to go play outside and return home sloppy wet and pleasurably cold. These days, I don't romp in the snow (though perhaps I should). I find things to do inside--folding laundry, tidying up the bits and pieces of a home, working on my writing.
So, for today, I am grateful for snow days.