Thick gray clouds cover the sky while we wait for snow. The ground is bare, unusual for January, though becoming more regular because as our climate is rapidly warming. We’ve had so much rain lately, the kids go to bed Saturday night eager to wake up to a snowy day.
Every winter we talk about how cool it would be if we got feet of snow and had to crawl out of the house from the second floor. Of course, there are thousands of reasons that would not be cool, but this is how much we love snow in our family. We wake up to heavy clouds and steady flakes falling. We bundle and shovel, pull each other in the toboggan down the slippery quiet street, look at snow flakes under a microscope, and pile snow into a big mound to dig into a cave.
Getting out into the snow and ice makes the season more enjoyable for me. I love the cold air and the landscape that feels so different when it is covered in white. I’m privileged to have a warm place to feel a sense of hibernation in the season of long nights and chilly days.
If you’ve lived in a snowy place, I hope you’ve been able to appreciate the very coziness that arrives when flakes are falling outside and inside is dry and warm. Looking out my kitchen windows, I’m in a snow globe surrounded by the magic of falling flakes.
The day after the storm we were gifted one of those cold sparkling winter days when the snow is fluffy, squeaking beneath your boots while the sky is a clear blue. As I shovel snow glittering in the sunlight, I find myself thinking about the times my neighbors have helped clear our driveway with a snow blower or a plow. It can be a relief, especially when the end of the driveway is frozen solid from the snow that piles up when the street is plowed. But I love my sleigh shovel for pushing the snow off the driveway and making paths and keeping me warm.
I sometimes feel foolish sticking to my big sleigh shovel when I hear the drone of snowblower motors, but I love my unpaved driveway and motor-free shoveling. While I contemplated whether I should adopt my neighbors’ techniques, I remembered something that has taken me way too long to learn, this truth that we can all do what is best for us. I know it is a jump from snow removal methods to life choices but I wish more of the advice and ideas for living came with the disclaimer: This might not work for you, we are all different. What works for you is great, even if it’s not what everyone else is doing.
Later in the day I am blinded by the bright sun on a sledding hill. Trudging up and down the hill reminds that me that humans can delight in play as much as otters or dolphins, we just forget that this is necessary. We watch three men, who tell us they are from Texas, pull each other down the hill on a borrowed sled, laughing all the way.
Standing at the top of the hill while our daughters slide down, my friend mentions that she always forgets that no one really has their lives together. We tend to think everyone else is killing it while we struggle. It’s rare to see beyond the facade we all wear to reveal the complex, messy, and often difficult inner workings of our lives.
At home, before sunset, I watch the afternoon light, pink, gold, and blue on the snow. I give my chickens some scratch grains to keep them warm on what will be a very cold night. We used to get days or weeks of temperatures in the teens and single digits (Fahrenheit) but this cold snap won’t last long. This winter we’re talking about the weird weather, the surprisingly warm rainy days that we say are not normal, and I wonder if we will ever figure out how to talk about climate change in a meaningful way. We are in it, but it feels impossible to bring up in casual conversation without being too light or too heavy.
Just before the rain begins my kids are drinking hot chocolate inside a snow cave lit with candles. Earlier in the day we made time for another round of sledding and spent hours carving out the snow mound to make cave big enough for two people to recline in, making the most of what we have here and now.
Warmly,
Anna