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Snow Day!

Snow Day!

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It snowed for more than 24 hours. It made lopsided lumps on the deck railings, slightly shorter where jays flicked their tails. The bamboo is hanging its head with the weight of all the white stuff, and the covered chairs have odd outlines on this first snow day of 2019.

Snow days have their own routine and rhythm. There is, first of all, the surprise of seeing a world transformed. Upstairs the shades are drawn, but downstairs the deck doors and windows bring the outside in. And it is a marvelously changed outside.

I was thinking this morning that even though I love summer best, no season transforms as winter does. Cars are covered, roads are covered (despite the plows and pre-treatment). No one is stirring. It is as if we’re holding our collective breaths.

Later on, I’ll tug on my boots and make my way to the street and newspaper. Later on, I’ll do a little shoveling and a little work. But for now, I’m sipping tea and taking it all in.

Dreams of Snow

Dreams of Snow

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Here in our nation’s capital, government shut-down talk is being supplanted by possible snowstorm talk. It’s not as if the area hasn’t already been in an odd limbo for weeks. Now we have 40-mile-an-hour winds and an increasing chance of snow tomorrow and Sunday.

All of which makes for a topsy-turvy day. 
For those of us not in federal employment, a couple of days off would be divine. But I doubt that will happen.
Until then … a girl’s gotta dream. 
(Photos courtesy of Snowmageddon, 2010.)
Early Snow

Early Snow

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There are still leaves on the trees, but that isn’t stopping the snow from falling. What was first billed as sleet and freezing rain has turned into snow that’s sticking on deck and railing, yard and street.

Roads, mostly untreated, are slick and getting slicker.

It will turn to rain later, they say. They being the Capital Weather Gang, my go-to weather source.  But they also said there wouldn’t be much accumulation, so I’m not believing them at the moment.

What I am believing is what I see from the warm confines of my living room. The snow is falling, and there may be a little sleet mixed in because it’s making a sound when it hits the ground. No silent snow, secret snow here. It’s early snow, loud snow.

Two-Hour Delay

Two-Hour Delay

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When I was a kid, you either had school or you did not. There was no in between. By the time I had children, the two-hour delay was well established.

In many ways it makes sense. Icy mornings often moderate, and two hours can make a big difference in the condition of roads and sidewalks. Having just driven to Metro on a day deemed too tricky for an on-time start, I can vouch that the county made the right call today.

But I can remember what a mess it was when the kids were young and school started at 11:05 rather than the (already late) 9:05. I could barely transcribe an interview before they were home again. And there’s something about the moral relativity of a two-hour delay that disheartens me. It’s mushy, especially when employed too often.

Perhaps that’s why I slogged into the office today. It was hard … but it was pure.

(We only got an inch of snow today; the photos is from 2010.) 

First Snow

First Snow

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This snow meant business right from the start, clinging to grass and trees and leaf piles. I thought, as I walked, how snow cover brings out the essential nature of a thing. A fence looks more fence-like, a flower pot more flower-pot-like.

It this because it’s accented in white? Or because the eye is trained in new directions?  Juncos have swooped in for seed and suet, and even, perhaps for the snow itself, flicking little bits of it as they peck. Are they drinking the snow or just moving it out of the way?

Questions without answers. On snow days, it’s enough just to wonder.

Atypical Tuesday

Atypical Tuesday

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On Saturday I saw my first lawn mower of the season and smelled the aroma of freshly cut wild onions. The daffodils are out and so are the iris and myrtle. Only now there are several inches of heavy snow on top of them.

Late work last night and a delayed start this morning have made today different from typical Tuesdays.  It’s a mid-March snow day, and it’s a welcome one. Not because of the snow, but because of the pause. Even a lackluster stoppage is a good one.

Though it may slow some of us down a bit (Copper is wondering if he might finally catch that squirrel), it’s always good to have a break in the routine.
Snow in Place

Snow in Place

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A white world this morning. The snow behaved itself, stuck to grass and trees and lampposts — and left the streets alone. So I could drive along wintry ways with scenery softened by the snow and made beautiful by it.

It didn’t take much to transform: less than an inch. But what a difference it made. How calm and lovely the passage from place to place.

Here we are at the end of January. We could (fingers crossed) escape without a blizzard. I’ll be content if a few small pretty snows are all we have. Just a soupçon of winter this year, thank you very much.

Last Stand

Last Stand

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Woke up to a white world. Each twig and limb covered with heavy, clinging snow. Deceptive in the gloaming, when shapes are not what they appear.

As the morning grew lighter I could make out black roads and driveway, grass tops bursting through the blanket. But the holly is still dolloped, and the first faint blooms of witch hazel, that thin yellow furze, are coated in frosting. Every few minutes the wind loosens a clump of snow, which retains its twig shape for an instant, then vanishes in a pouf of powder.

I looked ahead at the forecast; in a few days we’ll have 60s and 70s. This morning’s weather is a last stand of sorts. It is beauty at its most basic, which is fleeting. By noon tree limbs will be barren bark.

Meanwhile, I fill my eyes with the scene out the window. Today it’s winter; next week it will be spring.

Sculptural Snow

Sculptural Snow

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A walk over the weekend took me past snow piled in fantastical shapes. Snow like the wind-scoured face of an ancient mountain. Snow like an architecturally inspried installation of an avant garde exhibition.

What snow we have left has blackened caps and sides. It has hardened into peaks and valleys. It is nothing like what fell here 17 days ago.

What’s left now are the remnants of plowed mountains, covered with exhaust and road soot. It’s snow as refuse, snow as sculpture.

Making it Official

Making it Official

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Yesterday morning the plows made it through, so four days of newspapers landed in the driveway with a thud.

We weren’t exactly information starved over the long weekend. I always enjoy the hyped-up local TV and radio news before, during and after a snowstorm. And there’s the Capital Weather Gang, my go-to website with more analytics and blizzard models than you’d ever want to know.

Still, it was a relief to get the print product, to see this recent meteorological event dubbed one “for the ages”. It was almost (not quite) as if seeing it in print meant it really, truly happened. At the very least it was verification and retrospection.

But, this being a lively and full house, the papers were soon scattered across the counter and coffee table. Drinks were set down on them, breadcrumbs shaken on them.  And more than anything else, they — their late arrival, the news they bore — became part of the memory of this moment.