Climb out of a dream, and notice how much dimmer the outdoor light seems. In the summer, the sun shines directly through that same window, but not today. Stand and stretch, and wander to the living room; take a look out the big window, and smile.
A velvety blanket of snow covers the world — at least our little corner of it; snow is still falling, gently now, but make no assumptions. In a few hours, the sun may be out, or the wind stepped up and the snow flying sideways. The street is empty, and the plows pass about once an hour. When the storm is finally over, those workers will have their jobs laid out for them.
It’s slowly warming up outside, and my window is wet and drippy. The small, fine snowflakes still fall, and I would guess the snow has reached three inches. A big storm during school vacation always promised sledding and sliding and snowball fights and forts of every shape and size. I heard these promises, but I don’t remember answering their calls — I spent my teenage years walking around in the snow, but even then, I preferred sliding down the hill to climbing back up. Still, I sense the magic of the snowfall as I did then.
The magic of snow isn’t apparent to everyone. I am sister to she who would rather face drought, or flood, or whatever other of weather’s many faces.
(That is poetic license — I know she dislikes snow, but I don’t imagine she wants any other catastrophes.) People who work outside often dread snowstorms — unless they also ski, or slide, or skate in the winter. Anyone who must drive in this stuff feels some sense of heightened awareness, if not worry, as long as they are on the road.
I am lucky enough to give a miss to most of the worries — I miss the mobility of driving, but I am grateful each storm that I don’t have to clear the car of snow, or move it at the mercy of the maintenance men, who, in 9 years, have never arrived to plow the parking lot at the same time twice. The taxis are always warm and clear of snow when I need them, and I trust most of the drivers enough to get me where I need to go. In fact, since I gave up my driver’s license, I have faced morning snowstorms with peace in my heart.
So here I am, sipping hot chocolate and enjoying the picture framed by the living room window. I love the Maine coast in winter.