Snow in the South is wonderful. It has a kind of magic and mystery that it has nowhere else. And the reason for this is that it comes to people in the South not as the grim, unyielding tenant of Winter's keep, but as a strange and wild visitor from the secret North."
Thomas Wolfe
Outside my window, large flakes are falling heavier than I experienced a few weeks ago in Chicago. It is beautiful for all reasons Thom Wolfe suggests. Snow a rare and welcomed treat to Southern eyes. Anticipating spring, the bare black limbs of the tree in my backyard have sprouted new slender brown branches. I set my Christmas poinsettias outside to drink the sweet rain and enjoy yesterday’s warmth. Weather works that way here. One day it’s 70 degrees and sunny the next whirling clouds of white and wet cold threaten all the tender blossoms. Many spring flowers fall victim to the Southern sampling of seasons, which seem to follow no particular order. It’s winter by whim today. Tomorrow who knows.
I slept better in Chicago than I had in years. I told my hosts that they possessed the sleepiest home I’d ever enjoyed. It was difficult to stay awake. I am usually over stressed when I’m traveling. At home I’m an insomniac. My God it just thundered, thunder snow. How deliciously rare. It’s heavier now, sticking to the ground and the roads. He can’t stay inside. I just heard him open the door and go outside. I call out to him, “Honey is it getting cold?”
“It’s getting there quick. I wonder if I can get to work tomorrow,” he says.
A snow day. The equivalent of every snow touched Southerner contracting the common cold. A day in bed with movies and hot chocolate. Maybe even build a fire. He teases me that perhaps it is that long buried Western European blood. I am soothed by cold and snow. Inspired to write. I was working on some dull story about hand held devices. I dropped it immediately upon noticing the falling white.
"Maybe we should move, up North and West, doesn’t your cousin live in Portland? I’m going to the grocery store."
"Buy us some lunch, I say. I’m not cooking it’s a snow day".
I hear sirens in the distance. Accidents. Suddenly no one knows how to drive. Why don’t they just stay home and enjoy this heavy blanket of white. I am seduced and sedated by it…snow.
Thomas Wolfe
Outside my window, large flakes are falling heavier than I experienced a few weeks ago in Chicago. It is beautiful for all reasons Thom Wolfe suggests. Snow a rare and welcomed treat to Southern eyes. Anticipating spring, the bare black limbs of the tree in my backyard have sprouted new slender brown branches. I set my Christmas poinsettias outside to drink the sweet rain and enjoy yesterday’s warmth. Weather works that way here. One day it’s 70 degrees and sunny the next whirling clouds of white and wet cold threaten all the tender blossoms. Many spring flowers fall victim to the Southern sampling of seasons, which seem to follow no particular order. It’s winter by whim today. Tomorrow who knows.
I slept better in Chicago than I had in years. I told my hosts that they possessed the sleepiest home I’d ever enjoyed. It was difficult to stay awake. I am usually over stressed when I’m traveling. At home I’m an insomniac. My God it just thundered, thunder snow. How deliciously rare. It’s heavier now, sticking to the ground and the roads. He can’t stay inside. I just heard him open the door and go outside. I call out to him, “Honey is it getting cold?”
“It’s getting there quick. I wonder if I can get to work tomorrow,” he says.
A snow day. The equivalent of every snow touched Southerner contracting the common cold. A day in bed with movies and hot chocolate. Maybe even build a fire. He teases me that perhaps it is that long buried Western European blood. I am soothed by cold and snow. Inspired to write. I was working on some dull story about hand held devices. I dropped it immediately upon noticing the falling white.
"Maybe we should move, up North and West, doesn’t your cousin live in Portland? I’m going to the grocery store."
"Buy us some lunch, I say. I’m not cooking it’s a snow day".
I hear sirens in the distance. Accidents. Suddenly no one knows how to drive. Why don’t they just stay home and enjoy this heavy blanket of white. I am seduced and sedated by it…snow.
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