The First Flurry
    
Clara shook her fist at the rain-choked clouds above the valley. “Why do you rain? Why not snow for once?” she shouted furiously into the downpour that soaked the already water-logged ground. “It’s weeks into winter, but all we get is rain!”
    
She stomped one of her feet as if to accent her words but only succeeded in getting her foot stuck in the mush that was the barnyard. Behind her, her older brother, Jayde, stuck his head out of the stable doors. “Calm down, Sis! You’re making the cows worried!”
    
Clara grumpily yanked her foot out of the greedy ground and trudged slowly back to the stable. Once inside, she grabbed a shovel and fell to clearing the half-frozen manure out of the stall. On the other side of the room Jayde moved sullenly around the cows, milking the cows one by one.
    
This weather really stinks, Clara  thought. It creates rivers of the roads and washes out the topsoil, trapping us at home. A decent amount of rain is great, but too much can destroy!
    
When Clara woke the next morning, it was to the same brooding gray clouds and drizzle of rain. Sighing, she leaped out of bed to dress over the warm grating. Then she hurriedly threw on her farm gear and squelched out to the barn to milk the cows. As her pail filled with warm milk, Clara noticed something white drift from the heavens. She paused to rub her eyes.
    
I must be dreaming! she thought. But no—another flake, and then another wafted to the earth. Soon the air was filled with white. A flurry!
    
Clara ran out into the barnyard, throwing up her face to the cool kiss of the snow. In her peripheral vision, she saw Jayde and her parents come to the entrance of their dwelling with grins written across their faces.
    
Clara also smiled. No longer would her feet sink into ooze at every step! Instead they would crunch satisfyingly on the white fluff that would soon coat the valley.