All I notice at first are the tiny damp marks on the front step as I lock the front door behind me. But as I turn to leave I see the first white specks whirring through the air and I'm so surprised that I actually ask out loud 'Why is it snowing?' I assume it's going to stop as sudddenly as it's started, but no; the flakes slowly get thicker as I walk to the bus stop.
It can't decide whether or not to stick, at first. The first couple of flakes half-melt as they hit the concrete, but the next stay cold and white. And the next. As the snow starts to fall faster, heavier, a thin smattering lies on the ground.
The bus arrives and we all clamber aboard, stamping our feet to shake off the snow as we move towards the seats. I watch, hypnotised by the whiteness outside.
But within a few seconds of reaching the main road the flakes have got smaller again. Turned to nothing. By the time I'm halfway into work it's just about stopped and when I finally reach my destination, my colleagues look at me blankly when I ask if it's been snowing here.
The first snow of the winter has fallen. I'm sure it won't be the last.