We went caroling tonight with a group of people from our ward. It was 65 degrees outside. In the middle of December. Just because I don't know how to carol without them, I wore an unnecessary scarf and a light jacket. It was strange to sing Christmas songs on doorsteps without plumes of frosty breath or clenched mittened hands.
I'm not really complaining about the weather--it has been beautiful outside--but with less than a week left before Christmas, I find myself needing to hold on to the memory of snow. Here are some pictures of our Thanksgiving trip to Utah--we were able to spend a couple of days at my parents' cabin.
There were a few inches of snow on the ground, along with some decent drifts. It wasn't too cold--probably highs in the upper 30's--but the bite in the air was refreshing.
It'd only been eight weeks since we'd been there, but the scenery had changed drastically. Compare this shot to the ones in this post--fall can change to winter overnight at 10,000 feet elevation. There wasn't a single red or gold leaf left on the trees.
We went on a hike in the snow. I almost died. Crazy high elevation + cold + hills + out of shape + pregnancy = a lumbering Lindsay.
Even though we won't be having a white Christmas this year, I'm excited at the prospect of celebrating in San Antonio.