Good morning, snow. We've been expecting you.

 (This morning)

Okay so now it starts.

Every year there is a moment when the wind shifts. I know it's always changing direction but the prevailing wind make a subtle but important shift right about this time of year. I know when that happens because our back storm door becomes a little unrulier. Throughout the spring and summer and early fall it pretty much closes faithfully, except when there is a real storm brewing. But in November, sometimes a little earlier, it's held open even on days when the wind seems light. It's pulled out of my hand and pressed against the railing and when that happens I always look to the skies. It doesn't seem different, but it is. The phrase, 'Something wicked this way comes,' runs through my head. I feel a little pang in my chest.

That happened the last week of October. That is my signal that winter is here. The snow on the ground is merely reiteration.