We don’t get very many snow days here in our mild part of the Pacific Northwest. It doesn’t really take too much snow to make it necessary for the powers that be to call a snow day either–this morning, we are “buried” under two inches of beautiful white fluffy stuff and our little college town has come to a standstill. For the teens, they pretty much have just rolled over, pulled up the covers and gone back to sleep…
We spent several years living in the Midwest when the children were little (Indiana and Illinois) where winter snow was commonplace and snow days were not. My eldest daughter remarked this morning as we watched the list of school closures trail across the bottom of the television that this would NOT constitute a snow day in central Illinois. She is old enough to remember and she added, “Not only that, we’d still have outside recess!” Well, one of the bonuses of having lived in different areas and regions (or countries) is that one develops a different perspective. One learns that what is a snow day in one state is business as usual in another.
It is still dark here in in the Pacific Northwest–the snowy world is silent and pristine. Soon all those kids who won’t be in school will be out squealing and tromping the smooth mounds of snow and the streets and driveways will be filled with the tire tracks and melting muck as they try to get off to work. Every branch of every tree is holding snow and is is unusually crisp and cool (the weather man threatens this snow will melt just enough to turn to ice tonight). It is unusual, a novelty, a delightful rare occurrence which will be the fuel for legends and conversations into next winter.
Meanwhile, I am counting my blessings that my children are teenagers and reasonably self-regulated. I am remembering snow days past where I spent the day helping children in and out of snow suits and boots and watched them generate mounds of dirty laundry–just when the pipes were frozen. I must admit, I do sort of miss that wonderful old sled I used to pull them on during the weeks of snow when we lived in Illinois–they were tiny enough, they could all three fit on at once…