That was the message I received from a friend on Gchat around 7:30 a.m. this morning after I woke up and pulled my laptop into bed. Indeed:

I am calling that masterpiece Snowy Leaf With Sewer Grate. I took it on the snowy, early morning city walk that ensued, in the company of my Gchatting friend (now clad in crazy snow pants), after I pulled on some hiking boots and ski socks and a hat.

It's amazing outside. But you know that if you have windows or eyes. On Madison, walking east toward the Essential Bakery, we watched cars slide and spin while their drivers flashed terrified expressions. We bet on how many accidents we would see. (Answer: none, but a lot of sideways motion.) We watched a huge shower of sparks fly out from beneath the chain-clad wheel of a Metro bus that was trying, impressively, to make its way up a giant hill.

I thought that this quiet city, in which nothing but public transit moves easily, is Erica C. Barnett's fondest dream, and I hoped that she was awake and walking around too. I thought about how light rail, and maybe trolleys too, would not be deterred by a little white stuff. Every walker we passed smiled at us, and people on porches shouted good morning, and it seemed that something about snow had made Seattleites outgoing all of a sudden. A woman in scarf and hat hustled up to us, on her way to work at Turner Construction, and engaged in an extended walking dialogue about how annoying it is that so many drivers don't know that they don't know how to drive in snow.

We saw an arctic fox.

My companion fell. Twice. (But not the three times that were predicted.)

It is amazing outside.