Today the third of a series of big El Nino storms is whirling over Northern California. It dropped a lot of rain and, a little while ago, the snow pictured above.

It was sudden, too. One moment it was raining, and then next these great, fat, almost cotton-ball-sized clumps of snowflakes poured from the sky and quickly coated everything in white. We had nearly an inch of snow on the ground 20 minutes later. Then it slowed down, the flakes got smaller and it stopped.

Some of it has melted a little, but as evening approaches and the temperatures start dipping again, I expect it will freeze. And there’s supposed to be more rain/snow tonight. And tomorrow. And Friday.

I have my second physical therapy appointment tomorrow afternoon. Even though I love snow, I’m hoping for rain, frankly.  I live in a rural part of a rural county, and it can take the county snowplows a good long time to get to clearing our little street after a significant snowfall.  And while I have snow chains for my Kia, putting them on and taking them off with arthritic hands while kneeling in icy slush doesn’t hold much appeal.

But I’ll worry about that when the time comes. For now, I get to watch the lovely snow. It’s a hassle, but it’s beautiful. I carted in a load of firewood this morning; the wood stove is crackling and blazing and I’m warm as toast. I have plans for a big pot of smoking hot potato soup with crusty wholegrain bread for supper tonight. Wren’s nest is cozy. Let it storm. Let these storms, and many others before spring, spin on through and end our three-year-drought.

I can hear the wind in the evergreen trees that surround my house. It makes them sway back and forth, slow as dancers, whispering among themselves. If I close my eyes, I can almost imagine that I’m listening to booming ocean breakers crashing on a rocky beach, not fir trees shushing in the wind. The sky is the color of a whale’s belly. The birds have deserted us.