Second of December
First snow. I want to hate it. It means winter, coldness, wearing too many clothes all the time and never going outside. Snow means one year is coming to the end too soon. What there is not to hate? And still, I am like a kid. Running around trying to catch the snowflakes with my tongue. Everything turns white and looks so magical. People are laughing after long dark autumn and children running around making snow angels. What there is not to love? How could I hate this?
(This is text I wrote earlier this year during the first snow. I wanted to publish it but I just didn’t have anything else to say. So, here it is. Why do you hate and love first snow?)