It's not exactly a marshmallow world; I've only seen North Carolina turned into a marshmallow world twice in the twenty years I've lived here. The ground and trees are dusted prettily, though. The snow kicks up when we venture outdoors. Most people want to know how the baby's liking the snow. The truth is, I think Mads is less impressed with the snow than I am with the way he looks in his snow suit. Since getting all this weather the past couple weeks, Mads has taken to dragging his snow suit off its hanger in the foyer, laying it on the floor at my feet, and then laying on top of it--letting me know he'd like to venture outdoors. But it's the outdoors he wants, not the snow, certainly not the ice. After about fifteen minutes experiencing actual winter, he will begin to fuss and hold his arms up to be held. The wind cuts his face and his fingers probably hurt, though when he realizes I am carrying him toward the house, he will throw a fit. He doesn't want to be inside, exactly, he just doesn't want the outside to be so harsh. He'd like me to do something about this, and I have no way of explaining to him yet that I don't control these things. Even if I did, though, I might still let it snow.
Here's a flashback to last January, the babies' first snow. Also: last February's snow.