Winter came early a couple of weeks ago (disclaimer: by local, and not my "up north" standards), actually 19 days early from the winter solstice, when we woke up to white lawns and even whiter rooftops.

According to our alarmist TV weather folks: "One of the earliest snowstorms hits North Texas." There was no follow-up though to this breaking story, when after a few hours of daylight, all evidence of the so-called storm had disappeared. Oh sure, temperatures did plummet, on and off, to the 20s and 30s. But then again, they also shot up to the 70s.

How quickly we forget our previous lives "up north", where winter could start in October, the thermometer stuck in the teens, zero, or below zero for days, with warm breezes not returning until April. By "we" here I am referring to my wife Marge, who already has thrown in the cold weather towel. "I'm tired of being cold," the mild-mannered lady yells. "We should be in West Palm Beach now -- it's 90 there."

Yes, we all love to talk about weather (cold, hot, pleasant, miserable) and all of us have favorite weather stories. Mine is Feb. 14, 2004, our first winter here, when a winter wonderland greeted us that Valentine's Day morning. A storm from Oklahoma crossed the Red River and dumped five inches of the white stuff.

Marge saw only the beauty -- tree branches glistening in morning sunshine, fence posts wearing fluffy white hats, our yard tucked in a blanket of white.

Roscoe, our golden retriever, did laps in the yard, leaping and jumping, burying his nose in freshly made tracks. "Just like back home," I'm sure he was thinking.

Me, realist that I am, saw only the grim task ahead -- shoveling the driveway and clearing the sidewalk. Not to worry, though. I still had my trusty snow shovel from Ohio.

Some two hours later, the driveway was once again bare concrete and nary a snowflake on the sidewalk. Being a good neighbor that I am, I next tackled my elderly neighbor's driveway, with the same excellent results. I did notice, though, the strange looks I was getting from passing motorists.

The next day the sun was shining, the temperature climbed to the upper 60s and all the snow was gone. Except for the piles that I shoveled, serving as a subtle reminder that this, after all, is Texas.

If you moved here very recently, and do encounter a strange snowfall, a bit of advice -- don't touch it. The power that put it there will also remove it .

Ken Gaidziunas is a staff writer for the Van Alstyne Leader and The Anna-Melissa Tribune.