At the risk of being burnt as a witch, I will admit I did my little snow voodoo starting on Wednesday. I moved my white crayon, aptly named Snowball, from the front of the freezer all the way to the back of the freezer. I’ll spare you the rest of the ritual. Suffice it to say, I was hoping for a whopper of a storm and I wasn’t disappointed! I know what you’re saying. ‘That girl just isn’t right!’ Believe me, my Facebook page is full of such sentiments.
‘Why do you want it to snow?’ I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard that one. By this point, I’ve given up on trying not to sound crazy. Point blank: My soul needed snow! It’s graceful. It’s clean. It’s beautiful. It’s wild and wonderful and so completely beyond my control. It’s bigger than me. There was nothing to do but watch it happen. And maybe take tons of pictures and videos to make a little music video. Call it Nemo or Blizzard 2013 or Snowpocalypse, it was stunning both in the depth of the snow and the height of the drifts. It took my breath away to see my front door nearly completely buried. I mean that quite literally. It took me twenty minutes or more to walk halfway around my house in nearly waist deep snow to take a picture of it. It felt sinful to ruin the perfect snowfall. Maybe that’s what I needed, a good healthy dose of perfection.
I remember the Blizzard of 1978, but just barely. This storm I will never forget. I was so excited as the first flakes started to fall. Saturday morning, I looked down the stairs and saw the front door window blocked with snow and I felt like a little kid on Christmas morning. My sister and I used a hairdryer to thaw the frozen storm window in my bedroom so we could open it to take pictures out the window. I stood outside on the back porch, well after clearing off two feet of snow by removing the storm window in the door and leaning out with a shovel to clear space to open it, and stared. The six foot drift next to my car looked like a wave frozen just as it crested. The wind was still whipping the snow up into the air where it hung like glitter in the sunlight.
It was too windy to shovel much on Saturday. I took some pictures, including one of the front door and another of our entire street under three feet of snow. Then I went back inside to be chastised on Facebook for my snow voodoo. I went back out Sunday to shovel for about five hours just to uncover my car and one of two buried garbage cans. I also dug out a snow fort. Come on, you know it sounds like fun! It wasn’t huge but four feet wide and six feet high with a nice snow chair. A girl has to take break. I was sad to finally have to knock it down.
Even as tired as I was when I was done, I was thrilled to the core. My arms were cramped. My hands are still very bruised today. But I don’t care! It was worth it! For 72 hours, it was quiet. Really quiet. No trucks. No traffic noise. No trains. Nothing but wind, birds and the friendly call of neighbors from across the street. The air was so clear and clean. I stood outside in the same spot for most of the day and watched the sun move across the sky as I carried each shovelful on snow to the backyard, the only available place to throw it that wasn’t over my head.
Deep down I felt it: This is BEAUTY. This is WONDER. This is AWE. This is God Himself giving me what I needed so badly even though I can’t quite name it. Maybe that’s why it didn’t feel like work to shovel.
They say we could get more snow on Wednesday night. I might have to sneak the crayon back into the freezer. Shhhh! Don’t tell anyone!