The Snow . . .

Yes it is beautiful, all of it piled against our front porch. As it fell, it was like the whole city was in a silent bubble. Most specifically, my street. I felt as though I was wearing ear plugs, a deafening thunderstorm of sorts. And going outside at times just to see if I could hear the snow fall was unreal. I felt like if I called to my neighbor next door, I would disturb the flow of the snow, kind of like making those first footprints in the undisturbed snow. Maybe my voice would make it to her, maybe it wouldn't. I would find out!

Ward thought it would be great to let the kids "run" outside and play in the snow while he shoveled the sidewalk. Why he needed to shovel us out in a State of Emergency was beyond me. They had been whining all morning, even going so far as putting on their coats and boots, pretending our couch cushions were the snow forts they would make.

I protested, warning they just were too little for the two feet of snow that waited for us outside our door. Ward, thinking I wanted to stay in my pajamas all day (why is that so bad?), insisted. So I bundled up the little ones with tights under jeans, socks over tights, plastic bread bags over socks, boots over plastic bread bags, shirts under sweaters, etc., and they excitedly entered our porch and stared at the opened door that led to . . . no stairs. Where had the stairs gone? Indeed, where HAD our stairs gone? And my rhododendrons? And landscape lights and flag stand and flower beds . . . there was no separation from one area to another. Just one flat area from my yard to the street to my neighbor's yard to their driveway and so on.

The children eagerly jumped into the snow, with pails and shovels in hand, Ward and I close behind.

Where did my children go?

Little boots and mittens began to flail in the air and screams of "Help!" and "I'm being killed by the snow" were muffled from their mouths full of snow.

At first, we seemed to calmed them, giving them a giant sled to sit on. But it became apparent in less than five minutes that they were restless and the silence of our street was rocked by their howls (sound does carry in the snow!).

Ward commented that at least they learned their lesson and wouldn't whine the rest of the day. That was definitely true. This may be the snow storm that ruins our six year old forever, damning her from ever enjoying a snow fall, or sled ridding again.

Unintended consequences.

She came into the house, cursing the snow's existence and ever having gotten up out of bed that morning. As for the other two, I don't think they were quite as traumatized, but I am sure they will remember yesterday, hopefully not as a suppressed memory in some therapy session.

Things I like about emergencies is bringing together neighbors. One neighbor of ours used his bobcat to clear a path for cars to get out. Another used his snowblower to clear a path up our street for neighbors to at least walk up the road. Several others helped each other dig out their sidewalks. It is nice to know you can count on each other when times are tough.

June