My fingers and toes were meant for mittens and thick wool socks. They don't stand a chance against the winter gusts, something I am reminded of each time I make it indoors and struggle to uncurl my frozen hands. My fingertips turn bright red, and they feel clumsy as I try to unbutton my coat. Mittens, I try to remind myself. Mittens are warmer than gloves.
Somehow, though, that doesn't matter when the snow comes. I pause to admire the white tree branches and rooftops and run around as though I'm a kid again, all so I can soak in those magical moments. And the first snow of the year? Well, that just brings on even more excitement.
Sometimes it's worth losing feeling in your fingers if it means taking time to savor the beauty of snow quietly covering your surroundings. But maybe I should get a pair of mittens, anyway.
