Yes, we have had a winter of snow, snow and more snow; and according to the weather guy, we’re going to have a bunch more. It’s not that I mind. I’m just glad the precip is coming down in frozen form. In my opinion, there’s nothing more depressing than dull, rainy winter days.
One thing for certain, this weather has given us a lot to talk about: the blizzard with 40 mph winds leaving huge drifts in its wake; school cancelled day after day after day; counties under states of emergency; workplaces closed; college classes canceled; snowplows taking out mailboxes; wind-driven ice missiles finding your already-frozen face; horizontal snow, vertical snow, melting snow, drifting snow, snow potholes, black ice, icicles, ice-coated windshields, and frozen car locks and doors; the scrolling banner of closings and delays every morning and night; and the endless speculation about what it’s going to do weather-wise tomorrow or next week.
I have to confess I’m getting kind of tired of hearing the phrase “I am so done with this snow.” Every time I read it or hear it, I want to very quietly respond “No, you’re not, because it. will. snow. period.” It is, after all, only February!
There is no doubt that weather like we’ve been going through brings hardships into a lot of lives. Heating bills are skyrocketing (mine tripled this month), and there seems to be no end in sight to the frigid temperatures. This is a good time to remind ourselves that while we’re complaining about snow, the UK is dealing with awful floods, and wars and persecution continue in such places as Afghanistan, Iran, Pakistan, India and North Korea.
This string of snowy days has held a blessing that I became aware of just today as I sat here writing. Glancing up and out, I saw fluffy flakes drifting slowly down–more slowly than I think I’ve ever seen snow fall. Hour after hour, it continued, and hour after hour I watched. And then toward evening, I looked out to see my usual view of woods and field totally concealed in a white-out so unexpected I just stood and stared.
And then it dawned on me. All of this time that I’ve been lamenting the forecasts, I’ve also been looking outside–beyond the sameness of my house, drawn to an ever-changing vista of trees that seems to be getting shorter as drifts grow taller, flocks of robins hopping from branch to branch to feast on crab apples, fluffed-out feathered friends at and under the feeders, gray snow bands on the horizon, freezing fog rolling across the orchard and pasture, blue skies and blinding sun, and snowplows rumbling by, spraying huge walls of snow with each pass.
There is something freeing about looking beyond what we know by rote to anticipate the unexpected, whether it’s gently falling snow or perhaps direction for our lives. Kudos to the simple joys that take us beyond what is to what will be yet enable us to enjoy today, no matter what.