Paris: But more importantly, SNOW

Here's a little tease. What structure could that possibly be lurking in the background? Also: ducks waddling around the frozen pond. 

So, I'm going to whet your appetite for Paris photos, just a little; but don't expect to see any monuments or tourist traps yet. Well, mostly (see above note). As a California gal, born and bred, I don't get the chance to see much snow. As a California child, I remember melting into pools of excitement at the sight of it, usually on an occasional trip to Tahoe, the one place in the golden state guaranteed to wear white after Labor Day. The year we lived in England, it snowed, and although I realize in retrospect that it was barely enough to justify the snowman we were determined to scrape together, it was thrilling. It felt like being inside of a Christmas card. 

If that isn't a Christmas card picture, I don't know what it is. Okay, it could also be Narnia.

So I just wanted to try to capture for you the excitement I felt arriving in Paris on a Monday morning, tired and hungry from my trip under the Channel, only to find snow coating every concrete surface: still clean and soft, undirtied by the thousands of footsteps, at least for a few hours. And it was still falling from the sky, too, in magical swirls and gyres and tumbles. Beautiful, and edible, too. 

But not very filling

This park was actually closed, so I had to stick my whole arm through the gate to get this snapshot. Also, while we were doing this, a creepy Frenchman started trying to take pictures of us, for some unknown slimy reason. I shut him down but quick, very thankful I could tell him off in French.

Even the drains in the Champs de Mars are lovely! I give credit to the snow, which makes everything fresh and perfect, at least until it turns into slush. In spite of the sub-freezing weather exacerbating my terrible cold, shutting down my immune system, and turning my lightly-shod feet into painful ice cubes, the child inside of me was simply thrilled to be dancing in the snow.