Yesterday, when I left home at 8 a.m., the sky was overcast, but it wasn't that cold out, and I didn't give a second thought to what the day might bring. I worked inside all morning, and by the time I emerged from my igloo of jello boxes and Ramen noodles, my particular area that I was managing during my duties as a volunteer for the Johnson County Christmas Bureau, the snow had fallen, the ice had formed an unseen layer on the roadways, and I was at serious risk driving around the rest of the day.
Although this wasn't the first snow of the season, it was the first real snowfall of this winter. The first time it snowed was on a weekend, and no one was out, nor was it more than a thin layer atop the grass. There was no need to emerge from the safety of our warm and cozy homes, so the damage was limited and short term, since it melted almost immediately.
This time, the snow fell harder, longer, and colder, and it has not only stayed, it has accumulated, the real measure of whether it is officially winter, a least in my mind. I woke up this morning to blue sky, the sun is now shining, and the snow is glistening and shimmering like crystals tossed carelessly on a jeweler's countertop.
Having grown up in Minnesota, I lived there for the first 27 years of my life, I am very familiar with the white gift from the sky. I am aware that some people really love the snow, and consider it to be a real thrill to see it drifting to earth from on high. I have never been a fan. If I could, I would return it for sand and beach.
So it was a disconcerting moment for me to emerge from the cool safety of the Christmas distribution into the cold, snowy reality. First things first, cleaning off the truck. Problem there. No coat. No gloves. No brush. Ugh.
I swept aside my aggravation along with the snow, and opened my door. Naturally, the seat was inundated with a shower of snow, which stuck in the fibers of the seat, with the inevitable outcome that entails. [Meaning, if I had a tail, it would have been wet by the time I next emerged from the truck.]
But eventually, I was situated and on my way. Next problem. My rear wheel drive truck sliding into the street unbidden and undriven. Or at least not intentionally driven that way. That was how I learned about the ice under the snowy crust on the surface of the road.
Fortunately, no accident for me, no cars were coming at that moment, which is far more luck than skill, I can assure you. Eventually, I arrived back at my home, and I remained snuggled inside my warm and cozy abode for the remainder of the bleak and snowy day.
I was reminded, watching the flakes meandering lazily from the sky, that there was a time when snow signified a magical opportunity to run outside and mess up the pristine surface, to shuffle and run and make the snow fly up like my own personal blizzard.
There was a time when the falling flakes triggered a desire to pull out the sled or the cross country skis [stop snickering, I used to be pretty fair at it,] and shoosh and slide my way through the crisp winter wonderland that suddenly transformed the familiar boring landscape into something new and almost mysterious.
There is little of the mystery and thrill remaining for me any more. I am a sun worshipper, someone who sees the snow as the enemy to be defeated and overcome. Snow, these days, is an obstacle for the most part, to be hurdled and then disregarded.
But for a brief moment last night, as I glanced out the window while closing the blinds, and saw my twinkling lights shimmering and sparkling under the new white coats on each little bulb, [remarkably, they are still working, for now,] I felt that unbidden thrill of possibility that the first real snow of the year always incites in the child hidden within. For that second in time, I felt the cold on my nose, recalled the crisp air and the wet mittens and the snow pants and boots and the feel of the sled underneath me flying down the little hill behind my house, and tasted the tantalizing possiblities once again that makes childhood so magical.
I am suddenly inspired to finish my work day early, and get the house prepared for Santa to come calling. Ho, ho, ho! Some hot chocolate is in order, I think. Marshmallows, anyone?
