Snow in Fairfield, Texas.
Ethereal, otherworldly-- snow on green grass, on flowers, laden on leafy trees. I've seen snow, but not very much of it, and never in spring.
Somehow, it made me feel that I'm not too late for all the things I've loved and lost along the way, to find my true path.
The snow didn't come at Christmas, or in February. It came in April, even more beautiful on green than it would have been on gray. It is not so bad to come late. It's better late than never, and perhaps better than sooner.