Well, I know all my neighbours to the east are heartily sick of snow already, but snow in Texas is about as common as cowboy boots in London, so you're just going to have to grit your teeth and listen to me rave about it for five minutes. If it makes you feel better you can always do the "12 inches? That's nothing! Bunch of wusses!" routine. We always enjoy mocking the locals when it rains and the news stations send reporters out to stand there damply telling us how wet it is. But significant snowfall is outside of our comfort zone, too, so we're happily staying off work and panic-buying cat litter or whatever it is you're supposed to do.
So, yes, the photos. It was very wet snow, so venturing out was a rather splashy business enlivened by occasional plunges into ankle-deep liquid slush. Nevertheless, I sloshed my way down W 7th St, determined to extract maximum enjoyment from the situation. This guy didn't look too impressed.
The snow stuck to the trees something chronic, and many of them couldn't cope. They looked very sad and droopy.
Most local businesses were underpopulated, and the staff had nothing better to do than play in the snow. I liked the use of maraschino cherries outside one bar.
In normal life, these are sun loungers. Today they are snow loungers.
The Methodist church over the road looked like a Victorian Christmas card. It just needed a robin in the foreground but I couldn't find one to pose for me.
The apartment complex boasts a hot tub among its amenities, and the combination of hot water and cold snow was irresistible. Tiptoeing through icy slush in flipflops and a swimming costume was a test of the will, but once we got there it was great. We weren't the only ones with the idea; a few others had set up an ipod (carefully sheltered by a chair) so we relaxed in the warmth and music, with snowflakes settling on our heads. Goodbye Texas, hello Iceland!