Let It Snow!

As someone whose occupational status is “semi-retired,” I chuckled at my own excitement as winter storm warnings whispered the promise of being snowed in. Theoretically, it didn’t make any difference to me, as I had no travel plans, and no need to determine whether I could get to work safely or not. We’ve got cars that (finally) fit in the garage, a manageable driveway, and a snow blower, so we could get out if necessary. Putting on an extra layer of clothing, I cuddled up next to our gas fireplace, a good book in hand and the NFL conference championship games to look forward to on Sunday. With chili bubbling in the crock pot and a soon-to-be-opened box of chocolate from The Candy and Nut Shoppe, what more could a girl want?

After all the advance warnings, I was disappointed to see that the ground was still green when I got up last Saturday morning – no snow yet for us. But as the day progressed, the snow began to fall, quietly at times, but with some furious moments as well. Hoping to walk a bit in mid-afternoon, I was driven back by the icy sleet pelting my face and coating my hair. So much for a few minutes communing with nature! Instead, I decided to be content with experiencing Winter Storm Harper vicariously through the various Facebook posts from friends in Northeast Ohio and beyond.

Since when does a winter storm get a name? This inquiring mind discovered that the snowstorm name doesn’t come from the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration, which names tropical storms, but instead, they are named by The Weather Channel. Here’s hoping they don’t need to use Ulmer, Vaughn, Wesley, Xyler, Yvette or Zachary this year.

As a native of the Buffalo, New York area, this week’s snow drifts awakened memories of childhood snow. While we didn’t have to walk six miles uphill each way to school as my father claimed as his heritage, we did walk to our neighborhood elementary school, returned home for lunch, and headed back again for the afternoon session each day. Hats, mittens, scarves, and the ugly red snow boots lined with Wonder bread wrappers were an inevitable accompaniment to our daily routine. The city had sidewalk plows, so we stomped between walls of snow, sometimes towering over our first-grade bodies. We came home to snowball fights and snow forts, and often made the trek over to the sledding hill on the banks of the Niagara River.

With years of experience, the community had the right equipment and dedicated workforce to clear the streets and walkways so safe passage was possible. Consequently, snow days that forced schools to close were few and far between, as snow was an expected part of winter in Buffalo. I don’t remember wearing my pajamas backwards and inside out, or sleeping with a spoon under my pillow in hopes of a giant snowfall as some of today’s children do. But when the designation of “snow day” finally came, we were thrilled – as kids, we didn’t need to worry about missing a day’s pay or having enough bread for the family, 

Susan Orlean describes the feeling: “A snow day literally and figuratively falls from the sky – unbidden – and seems like a thing of wonder.” Snow days brings joy to the young and the young at heart, because for a few hours or a few days, the demands of life are put on hold. There’s no rush to get everybody out the door in the morning, no rehearsals or practices to attend, and minimal guilt over wearing pajamas until it’s time to shovel. 

Rachel Cohn sums it up for me: “[Snow] brings people together while time stands still . . . No one seemed to be in a rush to experience anything other than the glory of the day, with each other, whenever and however it happened.” In my more philosophical moments this week, I’ve been challenged to be more open to the glory of the day, the presence of the holy, the companionship of those we love, and the gift of wonder, snow or no snow.