The end of cold, gray, boring snow is nearing. We can only hope
I’m not sure when snowstorms turned me into Scrooge.
I used to greet snow positively. Time to wear water-resistant shoes, thick sweaters, socks as gloves, and bulky coats that take up way-too-much room in the closet.
Hot chocolate.
Toasty fires.
Once, snow added a welcomed, lighter shade to the gray, brown and overall darkness of winter.
I survived the Great Blizzards of 1978 and 1982. I was in college. I didn’t have a clue or care. Pure ignorance and innocence. Snow was all fun.
Snow seemed different last month.
It wasn’t fun or welcome. Snow was a pain. It was messy. It was hard on the hardwood floors. It caused potholes. My car was always dirty, inside and out.
The bottom layer of ice was sneaky. It made me slip on the driveway when I was taking the trash barrels to the street, only to remember that trash day had been delayed a day due to snow and ice.
On the first day after the snowstorm, I got in my car to test the roads. I didn’t need to be anywhere. But I had to check it out. There were two types of drivers – really fast and really slow. I was somewhere in-between. I managed to get to the grocery store. I didn’t need bread, milk or eggs. But it just felt like the right place to be.
I got bored of snow quickly.
It seemed to hang around forever.
I’m not sure why I was in a hurry for the return to brown, dull grass underneath the snow cover.
I was tired of watching sports on TV.
Two simple things happened last month that made me feel good again about snow.
I went for a walk in my neighborhood. There were a few neighborhood teens shoveling snow from a sidewalk and driveway. One teen immediately asked, “Can we do your driveway?”
I didn’t need my driveway cleared but I gave them a few dollars anyway. It was Old School. It gave me a brief moment of hope, faith and confidence.
Later that week, I went sledding with my son and 3-year-old grandson in my backyard. I had bought my grandson an old-fashioned, wooden sled at Ace Hardware last Christmas that went unused for a year. I’m glad we had it ready this winter.
I told a story about when Dad would tie our sled with rope to the back of the station wagon and pull us around the neighborhood. We didn’t notice the fumes from the exhaust pipe, or the loud roar of the muffler. We ignored the potholes and slush splashing in our face. What if Dad suddenly had to put on the brakes and we slid into the back bumper of the car? Or the rope broke? We didn’t worry much. We were naïve. And allowed to be naïve. I’m here today to write about it.
My grandson’s innocence on the sled was entertaining and captivating. His eyes grew wide when he realized he could eat snow, fresh off the ground!
A week later, the snow was gone and I washed my car.
Played a round of golf the next weekend.
Snow came and went. We completed January, the toughest month. It’s February and that means more snow and cold weather.
There’s no reason to be a Scrooge. There’s hope. Daylight Saving Time starts in a month. Purpose will return to evenings soon. Bike rides. Evening walks. Baseball. We’re in the home stretch.
When it snows again, well, maybe I’ll bump into you at Schnucks. Likely, I’ll be there, whether I need milk, bread and eggs or not.
