I stood - and blinked, bewildered, at a drop of wet too fine and soft to be rain. And another.
I looked up.
It took one of the staff members to make me realize what was happening. "It's snowing," she laughed at my stunned expression.
Tiny bits of white cold spiralling down out of the sky, slow and then faster, drifting, dancing, collecting on my outstretched hands, on my hair. The rest of the "campers" huddled for warmth under the blue plastic tarp that served as our only protection from elements and wildlife alike, cold and jaded, while little Floridian 'song laughed and danced. "Snow," I breathed, surrounded by tiny frozen miracles. "Snow!"