S'no secret

Here it is a winter Monday morning just a bit more than a week after a decent four inch snowfall blanketed the Miami Valley. We had a pretty cold week and the snow stuck around nicely. But this morning, after a pretty ‘warm’ weekend -- mid 40 degrees or so -- only the deepest piles of snow remain. The rest has melted into memory.

And in that seasonal reality, is today’s blog idea: snowy days when one can stay at home and just watch it come down is a gift that’s hard to beat. True, I never had a winter job that I had to get to, no matter what. I suspect grocery story workers, gas station attendants, and police and fire departments don’t share my joy of snowy days. They have to make it in. It is only the extraordinary snow event -- a blizzard or the 12-incher -- that shuts down the majority of businesses until things get unburied.

I suppose it is the teaching profession that honed my joy of snowy days. Snow predicted? Even if it’s just a dusting, Cindy Lou and I would watch the late night news hoping the prediction was improved to a deeper snowfall. The first thing we’d do when the radio alarm came on at 5:45 am was listen for school announcements. And on those days when we’d hear, ‘Huber Heights City Schools, closed’ we’d give a little hoot and pull up the covers for a bit longer winter’s nap. When we got up later in the morning would be plenty of time to begin the refiguring of lesson plans to see how we would adjust to the loss of one instructional day.

But for me, one of the true joys of snow is the quiet world it creates. The accumulation on the lawn hides the winter brown of the front yard grass. And in the back of the house, where we are mostly bushes and trees, the snow gently settles on limb and branch to change its look in ways we know will be only temporary, but nonetheless beautiful. While it’s falling, a wonderland of change is taking place. The ‘sin’ of autumn’s fallen leaves is covered quickly in a good storm, and in my mind, at least, the natural transformation is a time for contemplation.

And that, I suppose, is this part of the world’s snow secret. On a heavy snow day, the world changes before your eyes in just hours. And it’s more than just visual. Mundane shopping trips are postponed, sometimes even church closes. Busy schedules change. The world slows down. Folks are known to pick up books they got for Christmas they haven’t had time for yet, grab a blanket, and a late morning read on the couch ensues. We don’t burn wood for essential heat in our house, but on snowy days I like to fire one up just for the ambience and the wood smoke smell that lingers in the house.

But especially for me, it’s the walk in the snow that really makes my day. Yes, the driveway will need shoveling, and that can be a backbreaker. But before I tie into snow’s removal, I love to walk out in it. Traffic is minimal, if at all. And the quiet. It’s almost tangible. The soft white stuff soaks up sounds that leaves me in a place I don’t find myself very often: true silence. No TV in the background. No phone ringing. No hum of computer fans. Just quiet.

Well, maybe the laughter of an accompanying grandkid who’s out of school for the day cuts through the snowfall, but that’s part of the snow secret, too. Good stuff. Makes life in these parts pretty special.

Today’s elder idea: Kindness is like snow. It beautifies everything it covers.

anonymous