“Wake up.” my wife said this morning, “it’s snowing.”

“Harumph.” I replied. “What time is it?”

“Almost seven.” she said. “I have to have the car at 8:45, so you don’t have much time if you want photos.”

I moaned and, kicking off the covers, swung myself out of bed (something I am reluctant to do almost every day).

It was a magical time, a quiet time, with the park almost empty, a fine sugary dusting of fresh snow and plenty of space to ramble and reflect (photography is all about reflections). Last fall’s leaves outlined, trees accented and all the rest of the landscape decorated by this unexpected treat of snow that leaves the streets clear.

And it’s a good thing I went when I did, as it didn’t last long.