The snow today is fresh, but commentary about it is becoming harder and harder to make so.

We've consumed more hot cocoa, built more snow sculptures, sledded, trudged, shoveled. When we sing "Let it snow" today our voices seem flat. Our hearts aren't really in it.

"Let it snow! Let it. Snow. Let it...hey, mom, will you play Scrabble with me again?"

News of more snow on TV and in print has grown stale. What can writers, weather people or television news staff possibly say about our fifth storm in a month?

"OK, folks. More snow. Ahhh, it's slick out there. Here's a shot of I-25. Oh, wait. Is that I-70? Anyway, it's a shot of Denver getting more snow. Or, is that Aurora? Is that today or last week? We'll be right back after this commercial break."

No need to step outside for photos. I can save myself the trouble and use photos I took December 21. And December 28. And January 2. And January 9. They are all starting to look alike at this point. Everything is white and waist-deep in snow. Get it? Got it.

Relatives and friends across the nation have stopped asking, "What's going on out there?" My reply "more snow" came too often this past month. Eventually all they could say was "oh" and the conversation ran dry. Now they are more likely to ask, "So, how are the boys?"

The sound of snow plows scraping has faded into background noise, much like the hum of a refrigerator. When we neighbors encounter each other digging for our morning papers or trying to pry open frozen mailboxes, smiles seemed forced. In fact, I don't think I'm seeing smiles at all. Are those grimaces?

We lived in the Southern California desert fifteen years. I grew weary at times of the weather and the views. The running joke out there is the weather report is a tape played daily in the winter, "Today will be sunny and warm with temperatures reaching the mid-seventies." The views out just about any window of our house included swaying palm trees, green grass and blooming flowers 365 days a year. I'd have to remind myself often what season it was. I had trouble imagining friends and loved ones enduring winter harshness.

Does the expression "what goes around, comes around" apply here? Friends in the desert now tell us they cannot imagine our snowfall here in Colorado the past month. That's what I used to say. They marvel, then mention they have to get back poolside or that they have to rush off to a tee time.

We long for desert weather now in a way we haven't the past two years since moving to Castle Rock. Longing might not be the right word. I think we are starting to feel anxiety, maybe panic. "California dreaming" has taken on an entirely new meaning.

We found lodging in Palm Springs the second week in February. Call us lightweights.Call us wimps. But, if you call us, it will have to be on our cell phones We're getting out of here, baby.

I'll send postcards.