Snow. That scene’s idyllic, isn’t it? The snow looks so soft and fluffy.
But when you’ve had so much of it, the charm dissipates a bit. That’s what my sister-from-another-mother in New Jersey tells me. And if I really try, I can remember my upbringing in the Snow Belt city of Rochester, NY and those snowstorms that covered our long ranch house with drifts higher than my bedroom window. I can remember trudging to class through the snow at Syracuse University. (When I actually went to class and didn’t stay back in my dorm to smoke pot and string love beads.)
It was a big storm back in 1972 that made M’s decision about which law school to go to a breeze. The acceptance to a Florida school arrived on a snow-stormy February day and for him, it was a no-brainer. “We’re going,” he said, and we did, just a few days after we got married. That was the last time either of us lived in a snowy city.
But I still have my Currier & Ives fantasies. Even as my friend in Montana posts tales of shoveling and plowing and heaters going out in minus-14 degree weather. So maybe they’ll stay fantasies.
Because that beautiful snow scene above can quickly turn into this frozen-snow-now-ice scene below. And that I DO remember.
Thanks, Bonnie, for the photos…and the memories!