A wet, sopping blanket of snow covered Seward this morning. Before sunrise, I could see the wisps of white pass my window, stacking onto the neighborhood rooftops. By the time I was up and moving, the snow stopped and a peaceful calm blanketed the morning.

I’ve seen snow this early before, I thought, as I wistfully remembered a past Halloween dusting. Nothing like this though.

I walked to my truck, snow brush in hand. I could see all the paths taken by the neighborhood dog in the early hours. She traveled to-and-fro, crossing the untouched snow before any of us knew it was there.

I wiped off my windshield, opened the door, and started my truck before turning around and trying to match each of the footprints I had made before, hoping to keep the white canvas unmarked by my feet.

I forgot this goal as I sprinted out the door again a few minutes later. I was late! At least I had the snow to blame.

My truck’s wheels spun out. I took my foot off the gas, put it into four-wheel drive, and tried again. I lurched forward into the unplowed streets and slid my way alongside the other cautious drivers trying to get to their destinations on time, or close to it.

As I drove along Nash Road in Seward, I remarked to myself at how beautiful the sun shining across the freshly fallen snow looked.

“I’ll have to get a picture of that on my way back into town,” I said to my morning cup of coffee.

Yet, when my appointment ended an hour later, I was forlorn to see the sun was gone, covered in dark clouds bringing more snow.

At my office, we called plow truck drivers and dusted off the snow shovels.

“We can’t let any of this freeze, or we’ll be slipping all winter,” we said, knowingly.

But, the temperature only kept rising. From the window in my office, I watched snow turn to rain, until the clouds disappeared and let the sunshine out again.

I took the opportunity to slip on my boots and walk the waterfront.

The quiet calm remained, with just the staccato beeps of plow trucks and crows, over the rhythm of the water moving to-and-fro.

I stopped next to a tree, pulled out my phone, and took the picture I promised myself before heading back home.

What a pleasant snow day, I thought.