After an unseasonably warm winter, complete with a 50 degree Christmas, the more familiar weather finally arrived. Though they called for apocalyptic events, we lucked out as far as winds and flooding. But where we lacked in that forecast, we more than made up for it in snow fall. Earlier this week it was something like six to twelve inches, in actuality, triple it.
There was an awful lot of complaining out there, too. No one knows more than I the struggles of a good snow storm. Stuck indoors with a sick and teething toddler and puppy, with no prospects of escape. See, like most women in my social circle, our husbands have the privilege to go out and snow plow our streets, parking lots, and schools. But what about the families they leave behind? I would not mind going out with my shovel or snow blower, but Penelope would. And poor Beau, being his first snow and all, required a shoveled piece of earth and a chaperon. But we had heat, power, and Netflix; no complaints from me.
I didn't get much done, and we didn't really get out there. Too windy, and the snow was falling so quickly, my poor wee baby wouldn't last minutes. I went out with the dog around 11, and that is when I remembered how terrible the snow isn't. The awesome silence after a snow storm-no cars, or people, or dogs. Just the cold still air. Maybe a distant plow truck working far away. The snow stops moving, and it sparkles. Trillions of little frozen flakes shimmering in the light of the night. My dogs paw prints look like four leaf clovers in the little coating that covers the once shoveled pavement. If I were alone, I would walk through the streets like this, taking in the solitude, the beauty, and the calm.
But I'm not alone, even with a husband out on the road. I have my darling baby, snug in her bed. My puppy drying his fur in the heat. I have warm woolen blankets and freshly chilled wine. And Netflix, of course.
Morning comes, and it is as I left it. With the exception of the silence, that's now replaced with the buzz of snow blowers, shovels scraping, and cars trying to leave their snowy graves. I bundle up sweet Penny in a vintage snow suit, its white, and furry. She has this charming sleigh that was a Christmas present from Grandma. Perfect for those new-to-walking feet that are sure to fail in the drifts. This is not Penelope's first snow, but the first she can encounter. It's silly really, kids in the cold. They don't let it bother them as much. They're cold, I'm sure of it, but they don't let it take away their fun. That's something we could remember, to not let the things we cannot control take away our enjoyment.
Parenting is a school I'm lucky to attend.
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