THE WHITE STUFF IS HERE

Forgive me, for I have sinned.  I let the white stuff fall down on the Motor Home, and failed to get the chimney swept.
 We  hunkered in with the heater blasting all day. I enjoy the snow as long as it melts away in a day or two.  Jim, however, was unfazed by the beauty of the white stuff. You be the judge.

 It was a wet snow. The maple tree branches are strong enough not to bend. The plum tree still has its purple leaves. The branches were bent heavily over my deck table.

 The fine needles of a heather plant turned snow into lace.

 

My Exchange student from Indonesia, in 1986, was dellighted that California had snow. Her father told her there would be no snow in California, so she was surprised to find out that some parts of the sunny state had snow.

 Linda, on the left, enjoyed playing in the white stuff and enjoyed the dog sled races at Bear Valley.

But, real snow looks like this:

It was deep, every year in Michigan's Upper Peninsula. This picture was taken in the 1942. My father would warn us not to climb the snowdrifts and touch the electrical wires. The snow WAS that high.
Brrrr!  I'm grateful to be a Californian.