Snow Day!

Just thinking…..

After all the years I spent going to school, both as a student and a teacher, and despite being retired, I still get excited about snow days. They are the unexpected, undeserved days of grace.

The Hubs still teaches a morning class at the university, and it was canceled this morning because of the snow. We both could sleep a little later, but chose to get up, anyway. We had a leisurely breakfast, staring at the winter wonderland over the steaming mug of coffee. The Hubs went outside after breakfast, and I chose the luxury of staying inside, knowing that I don’t have to go anywhere at all!

Snow days as a kid were awesome. I grew up in Iowa, and although we had a lot of snow, we didn’t have a lot of snow days. Iowa was used to snow and matter of factly took care of it. But we went through a period of years with super severe winters in the 50s. I still remember the snow being higher than the barbed wire fence. And then the temps dropped so low that the snow drifts froze solid. That meant I could walk right over the fence! Heady stuff, there! And of course, that meant we went no where.

When the blizzards roared in, my family was snug in our old farmhouse. Dad had the furnace in the basement stoked, and Mom made cocoa and hot soup. We would gather around the radio, listening to the school closings, and erupting in cheers when we heard our school district. Listening to the list of schools was one way I learned my Iowa geography. Then we would set up a card table and play Monopoly all night and all day. We would look longingly out the window at the potential fun, but with temps dipping to 50 below, there was no way we were allowed to go out. Dad went out to feed the cattle and chop the ice out of the water tank, but even then, he came back in and stood on the hot air register. That hot air register was a favored spot. We spread our mittens on it to dry, Mom set bowls of bread dough near it to raise, and the little orphan lambs born during the winter were in cardboard boxes by it to stay warm.
We kids slept upstairs, where the old windows were not tight and rattled all night. We were buried so deeply under quilts that we couldn’t turn over during the night. And when we awoke in the morning, little ridges of snow that blew in through the windows covered the quilts

Magic was written all over the snow days. Then the south winds would blow, the ice cickles began to drip, the drifts shrunk, and the landscape became mud. It was back to reality.

And so it is today. The savage beauty of the snow remains, but my adult self is getting back to reality.

To God be the glory……

Published in: on January 28, 2009 at 3:27 pm  Leave a Comment  
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