Snowy Days and Thursdays

I was born in Texas warmth but for half of my adult life, I’ve become intimately familiar with frigid temperatures, and snow, lots of snow. I’ve experienced other worldly blizzards and wind that takes your breath away in Chicago, extreme and slow-dragging winters in northern Wisconsin and now, the harsh climate that is Buffalo, New York.

When I moved here (from Wisconsin, mind you,) people loved to warn me about the snow. The funny thing is Buffalo’s worst snowfall was in the blizzard of 1977, and that reputation has stuck. We have had some doozies since moving here eight years ago. In 2015, some parts of the region got 7 feet. This week, it’s snowed and snowed, adding up to more than 2 feet and the kind of cold the Red Cross warns you about. Windchill like 20 degrees below; schools are closed as are many businesses. Even the mail didn’t come today.

There is something magical and mystical about a snow day, a time when you feel like the whole city is on the same team. We rush out to get supplies, help one another with snow removal and car pushing if necessary, we remind everyone to bundle up.

It’s the hush of the city that makes it feel like a holiday, the ethereal slant of the light through snow-covered branches when the sun does make an appearance, and the knowledge that you may have to just be still for once and live in the moment. We should look at the storm as a thing of beauty to be revered. Like so much of life, it can be dangerous and scary. It can take your breath away. But that expanse of snow glittering across rooftops and backyards and cars also gleams with its own kind of sparkling beauty. It’s a reminder that no matter how busy and important we think we are, Mother Nature has the ability to stop everything in one fell swoop and force us to contemplate the quietness, look for a slice of light through the trees.