In October 2022, Taylor Swift released "Snow On The Beach," a dreamy collaboration featuring Lana Del Rey.

But if you’re not a Swiftie, don’t stop reading just yet — this isn’t about her.

This is for those of us who’ve spent our entire lives in Baldwin County, soaking in the sound of waves crashing on the beach, listening to rivers and creeks babble on summer evenings or exploring the lush green forests and rich biodiversity that surround us.

Yeah, this is for people like us.

You see, I’m one of those people. I’ve lived in Baldwin County my whole life. Well, except for a brief week as a baby when my parents and I lived in Mobile. That stint ended quickly when someone stole my mom’s broom off the porch. She promptly declared, “No, we’re not staying here.” (Yes, that’s a true story according to multiple members of my family.)

No offense to Mobile or its residents, but I’m glad I grew up in Baldwin County. Sure, there are things that frustrate me — the rapid growth, for one. And while I love our small-town charm, I hate having to drive to Mobile, Pensacola or even Birmingham for concerts or shows like “SIX.” I mean, why don't we attract that culture here?

When the snow started, I was in Magnolia Springs.

Still, there’s something special about growing up here. Yet, for all Baldwin County has to offer, there’s always been one thing missing: snow.

Until now.

For those of us here, snow is more than rare — it’s almost mythical. Back in January 2014, during what I call "The Great Icing," we came so close to a snowfall. If only the rain had held off a bit longer, or if the upper atmosphere had cooperated, we might have seen snow that year. I’m not the only one who remembers that wild freeze. GCM contributor Melanie LeCroy and South Baldwin Chamber of Commerce’s Rachel Spear both told me they do, too.

For years, I held on to a little bitterness about that near miss.

But not anymore. Because last week, I experienced snow.

It’s funny — just this past November, while the northern U.S. was buried under frozen temps and snow, transplants to our area posted on Facebook about how happy they were to escape “that mess.” They hated the cold, the snow, the wind.

I couldn’t relate. I’d never experienced any of it. How could I know if I hated or loved it? I only knew what I was missing.

So, I did what I often do when emotions overwhelm me: I wrote a poem. It was about a nostalgia for something I’d never known — how I longed for the ice, the cold, the snow.

And now, I’ve lived it.

Last week, I saw snow fall for the first time. I danced in swirling flakes, slipped on icy ground, and watched the world transform into a winter wonderland. Even now, as the last remnants melt under an unrelenting sun, I’m still in awe. For a few fleeting days, Baldwin County became a scene out of “Gilmore Girls” or a Hallmark movie. And for a few days, it was mine.

So, like anyone seeing snow for the first time, I played.

This isn't our sugar-white sands. This is snow. Snow falling on a seashell that measures about a foot in length along with driftwood measuring about the same in length.

I threw my first snowball, built my first snowman, caught snowflakes on my tongue, and made a snow angel. But mostly, I stood in silent wonder, watching it all. As Taylor Swift says in "Snow On The Beach," it felt “like what I once saw on a screen.” It was beautiful — "magical,” as my coworker Ruth Mayo, another Baldwin native, described it.

Of course, not everything about the snow was glamorous. Like many here, I didn’t have the proper attire for winter weather. I improvised with a leopard-print scarf tucked under a black hat to keep my ears warm in place of earmuffs. To shield my face from the freezing air, I dug out an old heart-patterned face mask I’d purchased during the COVID-19 days from Lee Drugs in Robertsdale. My warmest clothing was a gray wool dress, so that’s what I wore, paired with black leggings and light blue sneakers. I looked ridiculous, but none of that mattered.

And now, as I write this, my lips are chapped, my body aches and I’ve learned what ‘windburn’ feels like — something I didn’t even know was possible until Wednesday night when my skin turned red and stung. We spent time clearing snow from the cars and the walkway, a task I never imagined doing here minutes from our sandy beaches.

But you know what? I loved every bit of it.

Because if we don’t cherish the experiences we’re given, we lose the magic of living.

Sure, some people were stir-crazy, and others — those who’ve seen far worse winters — dismissed it as “nothing.” But I’m glad our towns, schools and businesses shut down for a few days. Everyone should have the chance to experience something this special — and to do so together.

Yes, I could’ve traveled somewhere to see snow. But experiencing it here, in the place I’ve called home my whole life, made it even more magical.

Seeing snow fall down on Oak Street in Magnolia Springs was a postcard in the making. Watching snow cover Tin Top Restaurant was a movie scene. Seeing snow blanket the boats out by Billy’s Seafood in Bon Secour was indescribable.

As Swift sings, it was “weird,” but so, so “beautiful.”

Now, I want to hear from you. Was this your first snowfall? What about your kids? Did you go sledding? Build a snowman? Have a snowball fight? Did you paint a snowy scene or write a poem about the snowfall? Build a snow castle as Janel Hawkins of Sand Castle University did? I’d love to hear your stories — share them with me at whisper@gulfcoastmedia.com. You can also share your photo in out public gallery located at www.gulfcoastmedia.com/2025snow/.

And while you’re out and about this week, consider stopping by a locally owned restaurant or shop. Let’s support our neighbors and show some love to the businesses that missed out on a few days of sales. Also, gratitude is in order for first responders and utility crews who worked tirelessly and in dangerous conditions to keep the county safe and functioning during this rare event.

After all, that’s what makes Baldwin County special — we weather it all together.

Snow. Actual snow I could hold in my hand and form into a snowball while standing in my front yard.