Last night, just as the forecasters said it would, snow began to fall at about 6:30. The entire city had been holding its breath, waiting, and we were not disappointed. We were hit with a gorgeous, swirling blizzard, right on schedule. The forecasters also told us that the snow would turn to rain and become a slushy mess before morning, but at 10 p.m. it was lovely–a couple of untouched, fluffy inches, with more billowing down.
It was late for Claire to go to sleep on a school night, and just as I was finally pushing her upstairs, I said, “Honey, let’s watch out the window just a bit longer–the snow will be gone by morning.” But then I revised–“Hey, let’s bundle up and go outside! We might not get any more snow this entire year!” She stared at me. “Yeah, right. No, you don’t mean it. Really? REALLY???” We all pulled coats, hats, and mittens over our pajamas and trundled into the night. So lovely and quiet, and no one out! We had snowball fights, listened to our soft crunching feet, and made snowballs for Tom to juggle.
We sledded down our hill in the dark dark dark. We laughed ourselves silly. We were reminded: Go outside. Break our own rules. Don’t miss out. The wild gifts of nature are so worth it. (Which does not mean that I’m out trudging happily about in the morning sludge. What a mess! But I do think it calls for a nice second cup of coffee…)