Friday, January 24, 2014

It May Not Be A Snowstorm to You...

We don't see things as they are, we see them as we are.  
Anaïs Nin

Snow Day! Snow Day! Okay, not quite the snow days my family and friends are having in Wisconsin, Minnesota, Boston, and New York. In fact, they would probably laugh that our city shut down last night and this morning due to a dusting of snow and little layer of sleet.

For those of us that run barefoot many more days than not, this is a snowstorm. Just look at what I saw when I looked out the window this morning.

 
My neighbor had a white roof. 

 My garden in front had actual definition. I frowned thinking of my poor agapantha under that old sheet. "Be tough," I whispered.

Best shot comes from my picnic table. One can really tell how much snow has fallen by checking out the picnic table.

Wow! Look how high that's piled. 

Okay, I'm done trying to Wow you. You can stop laughing. I truly am still a Yankee in real life. Twenty-six years living below the Snowbelt hasn't erased my memories of a real snowstorm. I recall getting my car stuck in snowdrifts, shoveling snow until my back ached. Scraping ice off my windshield. Shoveling out my driveway, again, and again, and again, and again...

When I was a kid, I didn't know any better. The weather was what it was. I eagerly awaited the first snowfall, always asking my dad if that stuff on the neighbors roof was snow. "No, just frost," he'd say. Until that one day each year the depth of the color and consistency of the substance on the roof, and the lawn, and the street indeed declared that snow had arrived.

My older brother and I ached to sled at Skinner's Hill.  For the ice to freeze on the lagoon so we could use the new/used skates we traded for the previous year's now small size. (The bike shop switched to tables of used skates come every November.) 

Often we had to wait a few snowfalls to get enough snow on the hill to sled or enough cold days for the lagoon to be safe. Often we argued with our parents for more minutes to play outside at night -- the entire neighborhood of kids out in the cold air making snow forts and sledding in the yards. 

"Ten more minutes, please, Dad?" We pleaded, we begged. We offered to trade minutes off the next night for more that particular night. We peeled off our layers of socks and snow pants, our boots and wet mittens, snow covered hats and scarves, winter jackets and sweaters. With our faces scorched red with the cold and our noses running we stated our case. "Please, ten more minutes."

What the hell were we thinking?

I can't believe I walked every Minnesota morning to school, walked home for lunch and back to school for the afternoon. Then home again. I played outside until dinner and most nights went out again after. 

Even if I stayed at school for lunch, I ice skated. Our "recess" came with our lunch hour. The firemen would shovel off a square at all the elementary schools and shoot out water to form a rink. Bundled in my winter attire, I was far from being able to imitate Peggy Fleming on ice. But, my imagination made me believe I was her as I swirled and skated backwards.

Even moving to Colorado in middle school and becoming a snow skier didn't dim my zest for the cold and winter. That was just life. I didn't know any better.

But age and awareness always seems to come creeping. When I was a student at Michigan State and couldn't afford a bus pass winter quarter, I became more than aware of the cold. My classes always on the opposite end of campus from where ever I lived. No longer immune to the cold, I shivered.  Froze my ass off walking, each step swift and hellbent for the warmth found at the end of journey. Basically had no ass from walking so fast.

More years again in Colorado, then Utah and Connecticut bound me to the cold. I still skied. I still shoveled. I still shivered. One day in New Haven, while scraping ice off my windshield, a car came by and splashed slush all over my boots and coat. I looked up to the sky and took a vow that someday I'd live in a warm place.

Even though there were fingernail marks in the freeway all the way from Connecticut to Texas (my mindset of warmth was more of the southern California variety) I had to admit I was lured by the idea of pansies growing in my yard in winter.

I do have pansies in my yard. I will run barefoot again in a few more weeks. But, they don't make heaters here like they do in Minnesota. The high today will only be 34 degrees and I'm cold. I'm wearing two pair of socks and two sweaters. Sitting under a wool blanket. 

Last night I listened to the sleet hitting my skylight and awoke not to a winter wonderland this morning, but as close to it as one can get living below the snow line. 


I'm fixing to brave the cold to visit the grocery. Invited friends over for Chicken Chili.

Thinking I won't be hanging my sheets out on that line today. 
It's a SNOW DAY!

36 comments:

  1. A small dusting, don't think you'll be sledding. Only a few good snow days this year here, but I made it out to enjoy.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Yes, I did get a good laugh at your snow day! We have a similar situation in central
    Virginia; 3 inches, but it really only takes 1 inch to have a snow day. My kids have been out of school 4 days! If there is a slim chance that our precious kids have to stand at a bus stop with ice on the ground, they are not going.

    I enjoyed following you on your path from Minnesota to Texas. Fascinating stories of ice skating, walking on cold campuses, etc. You're so worldly. :)

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Worldly indeed! As worldly as one can get always living in the middle of nowhere. Except Connecticut. Could have been why I loved it so.

      Delete
  3. Very nicely done Julie. I really enjoy your writing. Thanks for sharing. Tuesday, it was - 4 when Shahid and I left for school and warmed up to 8 in the middle of the day. I am wearing seven layers, three hats, two gloves, gortex boots, and a face mask. Not this winter, but a few winters ago I would have gone out on my skinny skis and loved the feeling of having made myself warm enough to feel my toes and finger tips through my own work. We still have a sign on our yard that says, "pray for snow." Not bad for a born Pakistani, yes? Still there is nothing like coming in out of the cold and into a hot soup.

    I have a quote that is similar to the one by Nin: "talk of the weather is never talk of the weather."

    Naeem

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Aha, Naeem. Go figure I'd like your quote better than mine!

      I recall freezing outside with you in a couple of those states. Thinking I might visit you next in the summer though. Okay?

      Delete
    2. We would love to see you and Bob and the young'uns anytime. You are always welcome. Just give us a couple of hours as a heads up.

      Delete
  4. dang! you just reminded me...laundry in the washing machine because I forgot to hang it outside...which, why bother? it would have frozen anyway. cold, snowy, cold; I'm so ready to complain about heat.

    ReplyDelete
  5. I hope you got there before all the bread and milk disappeared off the shelves. I remember the horrors of ice and snow in places that did not see it much--the grocery stores became battle zones. Stay warm.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Now that you mention it, the wine aisle did look a tad sparse.

      Delete
  6. You always make me smile, love it when I make time to browse through blog land. I don't think you would enjoy our Canadian winters very much! Thank you so much for the lovely Christmas card and newsletter, it was wonderful to hear from you. xo

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Ah. Bernie. Always a pleasure to hear from you. I think you're right - I couldn't handle the Canadian winters. At least at this age. Stay warm.

      Delete
  7. I love your version of a snow day, except for the fact that you can't stay warm. (But then, I spend all winter wearing multiple layers topped off with a fleece jacket.) We have had small amounts of snow but lots of intense cold with more to come. Stay warm; your gardening season will come long before mine!

    ReplyDelete
  8. Yes, a friend way, way up in Northern Minnesota says she thinks they've turned to permafrost. Ha!

    ReplyDelete
  9. If my experience is anything to go by, you would adjust very quickly. Not saying you would enjoy it, or stop longing for your sandals, but after a few days of 20 below, 12 feels balmy and you're ready to go out and play again. . . and if it has to be cold, it ought to be pretty. Hope you'll come see me this summer too.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I probably would adjust, but, like you say, I'd hate it.

      Delete
  10. You capture the childhood affection for snow so well--great writing.
    And while I do giggle at your "snow," I also know it's as bad for places that never get any to get some as it is for me to get a foot up here!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Yes, no one down here knows how to drive in it. Also, it is usually ice so nobody can drive on that. Hope you are staying warm this week with the extreme cold up there.

      Delete
  11. You put a nice comment on my blog today, so I went again to sign up to follow you and discovered I already have, but for whatever reason your posts are not showing up in my feed. This is not acceptable, so I guess I'll figure out another way to following, like by email or something.

    I loved the Colorado winters but the constant sunshine began to wear on me, so I moved to the Pacific Northwest, where when the sun comes out, we all smile! :-)

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Ha, I love that. I know that when the sun is out I smile. Sometimes hope for a dreary day just so I don't have to smile. So glad to have you reading my blog.

      Delete
  12. Funny, funny, funny! It does suck being older and having cold hurt, unlike childhood. When I grew up in Northern Idaho, I would go barefoot in the snow, and we often got snowed in - 6 foot drifts. I vowed I'd get away from snow as soon as I could, and living here that works for the most part. Still not warm enough though. I'm thinking maybe Arizona?

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. The heck with Arizona. I'm thinking something down by the equator. Or Hawaii. Truly won't have snow or ice there.

      Delete
  13. What a fun post ... especially from my snowy, cold, windy vantage point! My tolerance for winter weather decreases as the years pass. Someday I'll figure out a way to head south for the entire season and return to our little lake for spring, summer, and fall.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. That would be the life. Leave after November and return in April. Still get the lovely air of fall and the sweet scent of Spring.

      Delete
  14. Great essay! As your older brother, brought back many memories of Minnesota. Especially, the bike shop were we traded in our last season skates for the new season. What fun we had! Even at night playing outside dressed as you mentions as it was "a little chilly" !

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Yes, and always so packed in the bike store as everyone gathered to trade. Tables and tables of skates. Fun times.

      Delete
  15. Oh, the sweetness of youth. We knew no chill.

    ReplyDelete
  16. Hey! You still got more than we did here in So. CA. I grew up in snow and have great memories of it. I'll take the memories over the real thing. I admit it: I am a weather wimp.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I'm now a wimp, too. And loving it. The memories are vivid so need to revisit the snow for me.

      Delete
  17. Oh, the snow is coming to Texas again! They're predicting an ice and snow snap from Texas to the Carolinas. My brother from Minnesota took a 45-day holiday in New Orleans...they're shopping for groceries to settle in for the big snow day tomorrow. He's laughing but he won't be going out tomorrow to drive with all those people who don't know how to drive in a snow mix...:)

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. That snow keeps coming your brother's way. Coming through Austin seems like every few days. Friend in Baton Rouge getting blasted as well. I seek warmth!

      Delete
  18. Wowza, what a different life growing up. Sorry to say, I was the one growing up on the beaches of So Cal. I wouldn't know snow from mashed potatoes! And can you imagine letting the kids ice skate at recess today?? Liability plus! This was fun to read!

    ReplyDelete
  19. Nice story sis, I love your writing. I shared your link on the Austin, MN facebook site since you mentioned Skinner's Hill, which was a topic last week for 5,000 member to post about. Stephanie Emholz Jahr and Ann Astrup read it and loved your post, who are members, along with several others who read your blog post here and commented how well you write. Ann's dad Len has Alzheimer's now. Do hope you are doing well down south there, and keeping warm. Anytime you want more snow, you can some here to visit Jord and I and our snow drifts and snow piles are higher than me in the driveways right now. We have 3.5 feet of snow in the yards. Love and hugs from your brother, Jimmy

    ReplyDelete
  20. Joann Truesdell Paro I really love her writing-cool. Mary Deblon McCollough Excellent blog!! Took me right back to my childhood growing up in Austin, Mn. Thank you for sharing! So well written!!. Phyllis E Sorensen Great story. Ann Astrup Say hi to your sister!

    ReplyDelete
  21. I loved snow days as a child and even more as a teacher. But then maybe it was cause I had to, as Bill Cosby often said, "walk to school uphill both ways...:)

    ReplyDelete

Let me know what you think. Every word you write, I appreciate.

LinkWithin

Related Posts with Thumbnails