I miss the snow. I grew up on a farm in the mountains of Upstate New York and in the winter there was always snow — deep, deep snow. There is a calming silence that I feel after a storm that leaves a foot (or two) of snow on the ground. That old carol comes to mind, “all is calm, all is bright.” It is so true after a snow storm. The blanket of white covers everything and leaves a touch of itself on every surface: the ground, the top of the house, the branches of the trees, the fence posts, the barbed wired, the tops of cars…and all is calm; after all, it’s not like you can go anywhere until the snow plow comes by.

You spend a long morning hanging out in your pjs sipping hot chocolate until the beauty of that fresh snow calls to you to come and play. You change into heavy clothes and prepare to go outside. You put on two pairs of socks (and cover those with a plastic bread bags to keep the wet away from your socks), put on your snowsuit, boots, hat, scarf, and gloves, then you realize you should have gone to the bathroom first… (it always happens that way), so you take it all off and have to start over. Then finally you open the door and step into that new unbroken surface.

The reflection of the sun on the crystal white surface nearly blinds you (“all is bright,”), but you endure it and begin to design trails, and forts. You notice bird tracks on the top of the snow. Your dog comes out and jumps and frolics, disappearing into the soft piles. You make snow balls and throw all but one at your brother — then you sit and eat the last. You find some icicles, break them off, and you eat those too. Your cheeks become a rosy red and after an hour or so you go back inside. The bottoms of your pant legs are wet, as are the cuffs of your sweatshirt, so you change back into your pjs, hang up your wet clothes, and head to the kitchen for more hot chocolate and a couple of cookies.  

Yes, I miss the snow… if only for a week or so.