Snow. A storm called Nemo.

Sitting here, a faint wind calling to me down the writing room flue, rattling the windows, the morning after a big snow, snugged up with my coffee and croissant (well, the croissant has just been eaten, while I sorted photos--sorry), I thought I would share a few photos with you of the house after our first truly big snow. How much? Hard to say. A foot maybe. They named this storm the "Nemo."

Having grown up in the midwest, in northeastern Ohio on the border of the lake effect geo range, where a two foot snow--while a wonder--was quite a common occurrence in my childhood, and where even in young and middle adulthood, first in Chicago and then the mountains of Pennsylvania, big snows happened weekly, some winters, it gives me a smile to think that weather.com feels the need to "name" a paltry storm bringing just one to two feet. Still, here in suburban New York in the era of global warming, such snows are rather uncommon, and so today is a wonder and beauty.

For the house, I think, it must be a return to old times. It looks the farmhouse it is, at home in its deep winter dress.