Snow in the forecast is never to my liking. It’s lovely on Christmas Eve – provided all streets and driveways are clear – and perhaps some lingering snowflakes the next morning to add some holiday charm. But December 26, it needs to be gone.
As a lifelong resident of the Midwest, I’m fully aware of my less-than-feasible preferences, but my optimism overrides my practicality. Complaining about weather during one season of the year is allowed, and my season is winter. An address farther south might fulfill my weather wishes better, but not even the most ideal conditions could convince me to leave my wonderful family and friends. So I tolerate, and sometimes pray, and endure. And on March 1, even though cold and snow often linger, I celebrate as a survivor because whatever the forecast, it’s short-lived and spring is on its way.
The first Saturday of January temperatures were in the low 30’s with sunshine. But forecasts of considerable snow with blowing and drifting and frigid wind-chill conditions loomed ahead. Cars filled grocery store parking lots and inside, checkout lines were lengthy. Still, I maintained the foolishly optimistic notion that perhaps the weather predictions were wrong or overstated. Snow was forecasted to begin about 6 p.m. and when it didn’t, I rejoiced. Thirty minutes later, my disappointment soared as the white, powdery substance began falling from the sky.
Consoling myself with the notion that a little snow isn’t so bad, I kept a faithful watch on the weather. No one was indicating this was just some intermittent snow, but I persisted in my belief. The next morning at 5 I opened the front door to check the snow accumulation. Even in the dark it’s easy to tell there’s more than just flurries piled up on the driveway. With no place that I had to be, and no specific agenda for the day, I decided to make the best of an entire 24 hours at home. Fortunately, no one came to the door because if they had, they wouldn’t know, based on my appearance, if our house had been quarantined, our electricity was out and visibility was impossible or I simply didn’t care what I looked like.
At first, cleaning seemed like a productive activity. But such an arduous task requires nourishment, and when breakfast was finished, the notion to clean had disappeared. Always behind on myriad details involving life, I decided to check emails and Facebook. Before realizing the morning was nearly gone, I had read, forwarded, and deleted countless emails. Laughter, tears, amazement, pleasure and contentment – even with all the snow – inspired me.
A few phone calls, lunch, brief conversations with my husband, and a better disposition all framed the remainder of the daylight hours. The strong winds made it difficult to know if the snow had stopped, but after a while, it didn’t really matter. Somewhere in all my reading and thinking I rediscovered the maturity to realize my fussing about the outside elements would do nothing to change them.
Winter will never reign supreme in my heart, and a single day does not “cure” me or anyone of weather worries, but a good attitude, productivity and pleasurable pursuits ease much discomfort. But I simply must ask: Exactly how long is it until Spring?