In November when it snowed, I was thrilled. Our home was already filled with Christmas music, and I was more than willing to pull out the mugs for hot cocoa and to warm up around the fireplace.
In December when it snowed the entire week of Christmas, it was perfect. You know, a White Christmas and all of that. Since all my family made it here safely on Christmas day, the snow held no downside. I even had my dad here to help us shovel, and my brothers couldn't be happier to have some fresh powder for the skis they brought from all the way across the country.
On Monday when it snowed, the weather forecasters told us to expect 1-3 inches. I think what they must have meant was: "Expect 1-3 inches of freshly fallen snow before you have completely finished shoveling the 6 inches of snow that are already on your driveway." Starting Monday afternoon, the sky has dropped snow on us for 36 hours without taking one break. Between Andrew and I, our driveway was shoveled 6 times in a 24 hour period.
(Please don't think we have some obsessive need to have a clear driveway in the middle of a snowstorm. I personally believe that the presence of snow should require an immediate cease from all activities except: staying at home in your pajamas all day, snuggling up by the fire to watch a movie or read a good book, drinking hot cocoa with lots of marshmallows (especially if they are Christina's delicious homemade maple or vanilla marshmallows!), making snow cones with freshly fallen snow and juice, eating some sort of breakfast food for dinner, and of course, any outdoor snow related activity such as sledding, fort building, angel making, and snowman creating are allowed. Unfortunately, no one around here seems to agree with me. Andrew is still expected to show up at work, and I still had a meeting to attend. School hasn't even been delayed for goodness sake. (Well, our school has, but you know what I mean.) Isn't that one of the most important reasons for snow? To cancel school? My whole childhood was based on that fact. The multiple joys of childhood snow, because not only was it beautiful and you could play in it, but you didn't have to go to school that day if you got enough of it on the ground. I guess I didn't grow up in Utah. So the multiple efforts at digging out our driveway were simply to help our non-four-wheel-drive vehicles to successfully complete the journey between the garage and the snow covered roads.)
It's all becoming somewhat hilarious to me right now. Poor Robby was distraught because the sleds they left in the backyard at Christmas time were completely buried in snow. I think he thought they were lost til spring. It really would have been possible had Andrew and Tyler not helped him dig through the backyard for the better part of the afternoon until they were recovered. We even knew where they had been left. Annie, on the other hand, purposely buried her (brand new) hat in the snow for fun. We spent another afternoon searching for that, and despite its bright pink color, I really do think it is lost until spring. I've had to be careful to shovel a path to our mailbox each day. The back end won't be accessible until somewhere around July, but so far I've kept the front end from being buried. The sidewalks are all taking on a bit of a tunnel look. And I hope that any car that's been left out on the streets has no where to go for a while. I've had several moments of deja vu with my neighbor as we both tromp out of the house in our ski jackets-which haven't been used for any skiing lately- and our shovels and have a conversation something like this:
"Wow. There's a lot of snow."
"Yep. It just keeps on coming."
"I'm running out of places to put it all."
"I know, so am I."
(I get a little out of breath by this point, so we take a pause in conversation until it ends something like this:)
"Well, see you in a few hours."
"Yep."
(Please excuse the lack of intelligent discourse. It's a little hard to have a deep, meaningful conversation when you are trying to heave a shovel full of snow onto the top of the 5 foot pile of snow you've already created. We truly are running out of room to put it all. When my arms get too tired to lift and throw, I resort to walking with my shovel full of snow down the sidewalk to find a mere 3 foot pile of snow somewhere else in my yard. If my arms don't look like a body builders by the end of this winter, I'm giving up on working out.)
You might be wondering if I'm sick of snow by now. Actually, I'm not. I've always said that if it is going to be wintertime, it had better be Christmas or snowing. Christmas is over, and so the snow is my one consolation for the cold. I think there are few things more breathtaking than a world that is covered in white. I'll admit, I don't like to drive in it, especially after my near miss with a stop sign while attempting to turn into my street today, and I have sympathy for Andrew and everyone else who has to drive in it several times a day, and I could launch into my angry discourse about the ridiculous budget cuts out here this year for snow removal and how a refusal to pay any snow plowers overtime could easily cost someone their life, but I won't. I'll just focus on how, overall, I've been dreaming for a while of a White Christmas, and I'm just happy that although Christmas has passed, my world of white has not.
(Here are a few pictures, although, if you are not very impressed, you should just know that during the relentless snowstorm, I didn't dare bring out my vulnerable camera, and so these pictures-with the exception of the first taken from the safety of my house at the very beginning of the snowfall- were only taken once the snow had decided to stop, the snowplow had finally found our neighborhood, and the sun had been brightly shining for several hours. Just so you know.)
