A purple glow invaded my consciousness as I opened my eyes. My nose felt cold... in fact, my whole face felt cold above the warm cloud of comforter. Slowly twisting to glance at the clock, it read 5:50 AM.
Strangely, this did not elicit groaning from my sleepy brain.
I felt my system rapidly buzzing, my whole body was waking up very quickly. I knew that any attempt at sleeping further would be entirely futile.The realization that my cheeks and skin were flushing in the cold early morning air was certainly strange though... isn't our bedroom still inside the house?
Carefully and gently, I extricated myself from the steaming warmth of the blankets and padded into the bathroom.
The tiles felt freezing.
I grabbed my robe and tip-toed into the kitchen. Opening the side door I peeked out into the blue gray air. Frost had covered the grass and trees like a transparent white glaze; mist was floating and rolling around the yard.
I took a deep breath in and sensed something else in the fresh air... something besides the crisp early morning dew, besides the musty smell of dry leaves and earth and beyond the clean smell of the night's rainfall.
I was inhaling the scent of snow.
Today was going to be an exciting day.
There's something magical about the smell of the sky when snow is building inside the fluffy, silver depths of the clouds.
That smell makes me long for fall in Vermont.
I want to see the cascading flush of crimson, gold, orange, yellow and brown leaves again, hear the morning silence as the fog falls in billows down to the meadow, chased away by the pink and glowing gold of dawn.
I want to breathe in the fragrance of maple syrup warming on the stove as it mingles with the scent of freshly ground coffee and biscuits; spreading out from the kitchen like buttery fingers wafting through the entire house, both upstairs and down.
I want to see the frost on the trees and the first large flakes that fall in slow-motion; fat and outlined against the street-light lit blue evening.
I can almost feel the first, gentle winter winds pricking my cheeks and tickling my eyes with tears as my scarf is blown about.
Winter is coming and I know because this morning, I scented snow.