Snow: A Positive Post

It snowed last night, which was awesome. It started out as rain, which is wet and cold, and I went out, and it turned to snow for me, which you can brush off, and I was all, "Yes!" Ha ha, yes!

And then after I got home, I went out again. I changed into the Greatest Parka Known to Man, Even When Taking Its Frumpiness into Consideration, and went to the grocery store. Cuz I really needed to, y'all. I let the supplies run down before Thanksgiving weekend and then I got a little sick and I was living off of cereal and pasta for a week. I made up a little ditty about my little foray to the market, which involved saying grocery like "grocer-ay," but I don't remember it off the top of my head. Anyway, best night to go to the store. A ghost town, man. Luxury. And then we hoofed it home again, my parka and me. In the snow, which was neato torpedo.

I spent some quality time this morning with some angry thoughts about Snow Haters. I was going to post some hate in response. But now I'm thinking, let's end the hate. I'll just explain where I'm coming from, invite you to join me, and let you make your own choice, because how you respond to snow is a deeply personal decision.

I rather startled my roommate last night with my impassioned defense of snow. Here's where I think all my impassionedosity comes from: I grew up with snow, and liked it the way any kid would: Yay, it's something pretty to play in, and maybe you get a day off school. How can you beat that? When I grew up and heard fellow grown-ups declaring they hated snow, I was shocked. Do you also hate weekends and compliments? How could you hate something so pretty and fun and get-out-of-schooly? The response: "It's hard to drive in." That seemed like the kind of grown-up-ness they warned me about in Saturday morning TV. Not for me!

But it was also more personal than that. I loved snow without question, and when people declare they hate it, I hear, "I hate this thing you love." It's like telling somebody they're "wasting time" on a hobby they love, or that the food they're eating is disgusting and you would never touch it. Even weather people are guilty, saying that 75-degree weather in mid-December is "gorgeous" and a lovely snowstorm that means you get to make snow angels and drink hot chocolate without sweating through your sweater is somehow "awful." Says who?

So I'll try not to be grouchy when people don't want to feel the cold and don't want their heating bills to go up and don't want to drive slower and don't know how they'll watch their kids when school is canceled. If you'll try not to hate when even the ugliest parts of town look unsoiled and peaceful for a few precious hours after the snow has fallen; if numb fingers and toes make me feel like I've earned an evening warming them up again with a yummy hot drink; if all the songs about Christmas being snowy are like prayers and celebrations for me; if I feel like when it snows, it's a gift and I don't have to just be happy because other people get things they like -- I get to have things I like, too.