Writing Exercise - Falling Snow

Okay, so maybe I should change the title to the Diurnal Writing Journal? We'll see how long this sticks.

I woke up a couple hours ago, and I'm trying to warm up to get some writing done today. So I'll start off with another one of C.M. Mayo's Writing Exercises. Here's the one she has for today:

February 16 "Falling Snow"
With specific detail that appeals to all the senses--- sight, hearing, taste, touch, smell--- describe falling snow.

Interesting. Living in South Carolina now, I rarely see snow anymore. I suppose as a former New Englander, I've got an advantage over the natives though. While I can count the snowfalls I've seen in the past decade on one hand, I've seen a lot more than that in my lifetime. But we did just have the great 'Blizzard of 2010' so at least the memory of snow is fresh.

Here we go:

The cold air penetrates my nose, almost burning it. The scent is unlike anything else - it's impossible to place, but it smells clean as the world is slowly buried under a pure, white blanket. It covers the grass and the leaves, making it impossible to see where the lawn ends and the street begins.

The moonlight glimmers off the ivory blanket covering the world, creating an eerie luminescence that gives the night an otherworldly feeling. This is a night that one might find elves, or changelings. The White Queen of C.S. Lewis would be more likely found on the street tonight than a car or an SUV. I make a note to beware of Turkish Delight.

The wind whispers to me, as it makes the falling flakes dance one way, and then another. Opening my mouth, I catch one on my tongue, feeling first the sharper coldness, then fading into a warm wetness. The only taste I can use to describe it, is that of winter. And it's a taste I haven't known for a long time.

Stepping out into the snow, I feel the satisfying crunch it makes underfoot, and my lips rise in a grin.

And... time.

I miss the winter. What we typically get down here in South Carolina passes for late fall by my standards, and moves almost straight into early spring. But the snowfall we got last week served as both a gift and a gentle reminder that real winter is a lot of work. It's shoveling snow out of the driveway, scraping it off the car, and stockpiling food in the event that the roads aren't drivable for a few days. I had to clear the new-to-me car of snow before I could leave the house, and I realized that I don't even own an ice scraper anymore.

Now, off to real writings.