We actually got around 6 inches of snow, which is REALLY unusual for this area. It wasn’t our first snow of the year, either–we also had snow on February 16-17 (overnight), February 24-25 (causing a two hour, 8 mile commute home on the evening of the 24th), and February 25-26 overnight! So much snow!
I found myself thinking at 3 AM as the sleet hit my window. I love snow. I love watching it fall, the hissing noise it makes as it hits the ground, the muffled sounds as the snow gets deeper. I love how quiet and pristine the world becomes in snow. I love playing in snow: skiing, sledding, even snow angels and snowball fights. I wish English had more and better words for the different types of snow: slushy snow, dirty snow, icy snow, dry powdery snow, wet snowball-packing snow, supreme sledding ice-coated snow. We have adjectives but it’s not the same. You get to see such neat tracks and footprints in the snow; little bird feet and raccoon paws and fox prints. There’s a special brightness to red berries and cardinals against snow that is striking. I even loved the first hour of that horrid commute home the other night: watching the snowflakes filter down through the trees as the last of the light left the evergreens deepened to the darkest green, it felt like driving through snowy woods. Breathtakingly beautiful–and since traffic wasn’t moving, I got to enjoy it for a while. I can even love ice: the world encased in fragile glass housings. Sometimes they break, the glass-coated ice branches, and sometimes they take out electricity. I secretly love that too; it’s an excuse to escape into a fantasy world filled with candles and books and warm down blankets and snuggle in with a cat. I hear so many complaints about winter, and it always makes me feel sad. Winter is so many people’s least favorite season, though many claim to love the warm sweaters and boots. By February, most people are over it… but for us, here in Hampton Roads, it’s the most likely time we are to see snow.
Just before the forsythia blooms and the daffodils sprout and spring chases away the sparkling bright cold.