It snowed yesterday morning. It wasn’t exactly the very first snowfall of the season—not the first snowflakes, anyway—but it was the first to accumulate. It also was the first on a weekday and during rush hour. It put me in a grumpy mood walking out of my house; there was nothing I wanted less than to drive to work with snow falling.

By the time I was halfway to my destination, I felt differently. It was an absolutely lovely winterland/wonderland. All of the trees and bushes were coated in snow, but their still-clinging leaves peaked through. The result was a pointillist landscape of red and green leaves splashed against beautiful, bright white. I expect there was yellow as well, but I didn’t see it from the expressway. I didn’t take any pictures—I was driving, for crying out loud!—but the Chicago Tribune put together a photo gallery with some entries that give the right idea. Take a look; I think you’ll enjoy it.

Weather aside, I had a workday much like any other. But this snowfall, a quiet affair that softly settled winter onto Chicago’s broad shoulders, made my day. It put me in a thanks-giving, silver lining, count your blessings kind of mood. It left me, against all expectations, thankful that it had snowed.

It snowed this week, and that made me happy. I didn’t see that coming.