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10 January, 2000
I have an ambivalent relationship with snow. I can truthfully tell stories of regularly walking to school through deep snow, with temperatures well below zero on the farenheit scale. Until I was 16, I had never experienced a Halloween that didn't involve trudging through snow, slush, and ice. Now I live in a city that doesn't know how to deal with snow, for good reason. Some winters we never see a single flake. But every few years, we get hit with a serious snow storm followed by several days of below freezing weather.
And the city shuts down for a while. Since even those winters when it does snow, it usually only lasts a couple of days, it isn't economically feasible for the city to maintain a fleet of top-of-the-line snowplows. We have lots of extremely steep hills, with narrow, winding roads, often running along sharp drop-offs into various-sized bodies of water. I think the city of Seattle has more lakes, ponds, streams, and rivers within its boundaries than you'll find in entire states elsewhere. When you combine that with a few thousand caffeine addicts who own four-wheel-drive sport utility vehicles (but have never, in their entire lives, driven on a dirt road, let alone taken a true off-road vehicle off the road), you can imagine what a mess the town turns into.
And it's a nasty, wet cold when it happens. No matter how warmly you try to dress, by the time you get where you're going, you're wet and chilled and cranky. It's just not a fun situation.
On the other hand, walking through the city at night while the snow is drifting down is wonderful. The millions of snowflakes in the air muffle and break up the ordinary sounds of the city. Such quiet is normally alien to the urban landscape. The snowflakes, both in the air and on the ground, also scatter the light of the thousands of streetlamps, porchlights, and other urban sources of illumination, creating a silvery glow that's like fairy light. It's like the entire city has been wrapped in cotton batting. Everything looks and sounds softer than usual.
And there will be people running up and down the residential neighborhoods, throwing snowballs and dragging sleds. There will be a lot of laughter. It's fun to watch what happens to adults in a place that seldom sees snow. Years seem to melt away as the flakes accumulate on the ground. It's a special kind of magic that I seldom saw back in the Rockies.
The weatherman has been talking about the possibility of snow for a couple of days. They've reported big flakes coming down with the rain just across the lake.
I have mixed feelings. If it does start snowing in earnest today, I'll have to walk through a lot of slush. The chorus rehearsal I planned to attend tonight, my first time in a very long time to see some old friends, may be cancelled. There will be some automotive accidents. My nose will get frozen.
But it'll also bring that magic.
Maybe it's just that magic always comes with a price. That's how I need to look at it. If I want to experience the soft fairyland, and see adults transformed into cavorting children, I just have to put up with the slush and the cold.
Maybe I'll make some cocoa.
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This page is copyright 2000 by Gene Breshears. Photograph is copyright 1998 by Julie Rampke. All Rights Reserved.