I find to my horror that I somehow committed to blog again today. And for the next five days, no less.
So I shall start with a spot of thievery and steal a friend’s current Facebook update:
“Liz sets her face against the wind and braves the frozen tundra with its fell beasts and ne’er-do-wells.”
Shockingly, it’s 12 degrees here with a windchill of 0 and the faintest possibility that something out of Tolkien might come lurching by. But despite the fact that native Georgians are cringing in their sweaters, I can’t help thinking that this is how winter should always be – not just once every decade or so.
When we initially moved, I anticipated that I would miss snow. And I do. Not that I’ve ever lived in a particularly snowy clime aside from my three years in Chicago. But there was always the hope and expectancy of some white stuff to muffle the real world and suspend animation for a few minutes or hours or days.
If we stay in Georgia, I will adjust and appreciate my car starting up with ease on January mornings and taking the dog for runs in 45 degrees instead of teens. But still, I mourn the loss of the season – and I know David feels it too. Winter ought to be a necessary hibernation, where the weather forces you inside, literally and figuratively, to do some internal housekeeping. To take stock of the year past (give it a chapter title, as one friend suggested) and to brood over ideas and possibilities for the year ahead. Snow, properly speaking, closes out the old and wipes the slate clean for the new. One surfs to weather.com with the breathless anticipation that there just might be flurries -or the jackpot, a blizzard- ahead, that the world might just shut down and take a few deep breaths before starting back up again.
I don’t think it’s exaggeration to say that there is something sacred, holy about a fresh covering of snow.
And of course, from a practical standpoint, I fully believe that the only real justification for cold weather is snow.
Weather.com does not agree. Not a whit of precipitation in the forecast until the temperature jumps back up into the forties.