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December 4, 2002 ~ Flakes Falling Steadily
Wednesday.
At 6:30, I woke and looked out the window. Heavy frost, but no snow. My supervisor, upon hearing the weather reports, had told me in no uncertain terms that if it snowed I should just stay home. She wouldn't be coming in either. (Not that driving in snow is exceedingly difficult, but this is North Carolina. Where it doesn't snow all that often. People here don't quite grasp the concept of slowing down and driving carefully when there's white stuff. And no one has studded tires or chains. In the South, the danger is not necessarily the snow but rather the Southern drivers.). But it hadn't snowed.
I withdrew from the warm covers where Morgan was fast asleep, went to the bathroom, dressed, and went to the living room, eating one of the Thanksgiving cookies for breakfast. I opened the front window and looked out at the cold, frost-covered Pokey. I did not look forward to trying to start her. Sitting on the loveseat, with my back to the window, I pulled on my socks and boots, and packed my bag for the day.
When I turned back toward the window, I gasped. In the minute that it had taken me to pull on my boots, Pokey and the road were already covered in a thin layer of snow, and more flakes were falling fast. I came back to the bedroom to check the weather report online. More snow coming. Lots of it. And maybe some freezing rain and an ice storm. As I was looking at the reports, the phone rang. It was my supervisor. Wanting to make sure that I wouldn't be driving in. I assured her that I would stay home.
Now it is several hours later, and we have at least five inches out there. And it is still falling. Around noon, Morgan and I went out in it, walking through the neighborhood. So quiet. So white. I love the sound that snow makes as it falls. Such a subtle sound.
At the main road, which is usually bumper-to-bumper traffic during the day, a few lone cars drove by now and then. The huge Hispanic family across the street were all out front, making a gigantic snowman, throwing snowballs, and laughing. A couple towed their two year old along on a sled. A man walked his golden retriever (who was bounding about and sniffing at the snow). We stopped by the new coffee shop and the Co-op, both had a lot of locals, laughing and smiling. It was nice to see a bunch of adults being joyful about snow, rather than grumbling about its "inconvenience."
We both came home in a lighthearted mood, stripped off all of our heavy, outer layers, then curled up together on the couch to read, looking out, from time to time, at the flakes, still falling steadily.
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