No one in town believed the weather report.  How could it be? Snow in Houston?  Give me a break!

Michigan was our home for eleven years.  Snow was our staple.  It was never a matter of whether it would snow.  Rather, it was just a matter of how much would fall and when it would start.  Most important was when it would melt and how soon could we expect to thaw out.

Tuning up the snow blower was a date on the calendar.  Checking on the snow shovels was an annual event.  The clothes hanger by the garage door was now filled with winter clothes, mittens, scarves, and woolen knitted caps.

My neighbors waved when I changed the oil in the  snow thrower.  The spark plug was clean.  There was no reason to change the air filter.  Fresh gasoline was the last chore in preparation for Old Man Winter.

Soon my wife and I would trade that Michigan unspoken look, “Yep, it smells like snow.”  Sure enough, like we were dubbed with the gift of prophecy, the snow flakes began to fall. We loved the beginning of the snow season.  It was in the middle of this arctic blast that we began to long for the warm rays of the sun. Don’t tell me that we don’t know snow.

But, here in Houston, Texas? Ha!

Travel up the elevation scale and you might be able to catch a lonely snowflake on your tongue.  But, take your time.  5,000 feet might just be a start. Were our meteorologists just pumping up the wish list?

2017 was already a banner year.  We survived the ravages of Hurricane Harvey.  The Astros thrilled us with their first World Series Championship.  Could this be the first year that we experienced snow since moving to Texas? Whoa!

We drove home after another 14 hour day.  It was half past nine.  The headlights captured a familiar but out-of-place sight.  They were dancing in the beams, appearing out of the night sky.

They splashed on the windshield.  The splat was a memory of winters long long ago.  It was snowing!  It was snowing in Houston, Texas!IMG_0469