The S Word

I have a faint memory of peering through the windows in my second grade classroom and watching snow fall, it must have been 1986. Three years later we woke to snow for Christmas. I remember on other occasions watching the thermometer, hoping and praying for snow. There was an ice storm that froze the pines bending them into unnatural poses and snapping limbs.

In 1999 I moved to St. Paul, I eagerly anticipated that first snow. I later attended my first sledding party in jeans and thin leather boots and cried on the way home as my feet slowly and painfully thawed. My second winter someone was kind enough to educate me on the joy of thermal underwear. It may not be sexy, but it has an appeal of another kind.

April 15, 2002 I cried and cursed the four inches of snow on the ground and in March of 2004 I watched Spring in fastforward as we drove 1200 miles with all of our possessions to settle in this warmer land.

Today heavy clouds hang low and the local news is abuzz with the possibility of flurries. As for me, I’m just thankful if it does snow it won’t linger.