Nothing like a forecast of snow to waken this southern boy's muse. Whether it falls or not doesn't matter. It's the anticipation that excites her. She peers out the window and her imagination ignites. And, fortunate for me, she likes to share.
Don't get me wrong. North Carolina sees snow. Maybe not North Dakota style snow, but the white stuff isn't mistaken for volcanic ash. Chicken Little doesn't scurry through the neighborhood fretting about the sky. It's just snow. White. Pretty. Unless it sticks. (In which case it better be enough to get me out school, I mean work, the next morning.)
Where will she take me today? Maybe she doesn't know that herself. But she enjoys my company when she travels. And I enjoy hers.
I'm hoping it's to Aridhum. Nomed's there. As is a Steward Stone. She's showing me a river. A long one, with a swift current that skirts the Elmarain forests and Jerok Thel. It runs through Selenve, big city, old, historic. It's a hub of commerce trafficking in goods and wares from Osek-Dham to Tori. But I don't want to tarry there. We'll travel by foot from Selenve. Aridhum is the destination I have in mind. I hope it's hers as well.