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Friday, February 02, 2007Tennessee MicrosnowIt snowed last night. And I use the term lightly. When I first moved to the South, I used to roll my eyes at the poor, Tennessee children who would gleefully grab their sleds and toboggans and run through the scant inch of white stuff on the ground. They didn't know what snow was, I'd scoff! The tips of grass blades would still be showing, yet the schools were closed and the children were acting as though they'd been given a free pass to Arctic Wonderland. Now, almost nineteen years later, it's my own children who are running gleefully into the barely-there snow at 7:00 in the morning, hoods up and gloves on, ready to revel in the storm of the season. I can't roll my eyes at them, though, because now I understand that, through their eyes, this is a lot of snow (not quite two inches today). They didn't grow up trudging through snow to their knees, or climbing up plowed piles of the white stuff that were tall enough to rank as small mountains. My children are born-and-raised Southerners, and they have no clue. How pathetic! As a diehard Yankee, I should have tried harder to drag them up North for a few winters so they could experience real snow. The kind that makes you dizzy when you look up at it. The kind that sticks to your eyelashes. The kind that actually covers the ground so that you can't tell where the path is or when the sidewalk ends. Problem is, I grew a thin skin very quickly after leaving Pennsylvania. Trips to my parents' home in the winter were akin to some sort of torture -- an entire week of teeth-clonking, butt-numbing cold. So we limited our visits to the summer months, and my children missed out on their only chance for real snow. So this morning we had hot cocoa with freshly whipped cream, and the digital cameras were out in full force. Barbie families emerged in winter gear and went out back for a romp in the snow. Spencer's bright red jacket darted back and forth across the white background. I even spent a minute or two outside, but it wasn't to play -- I had to roll the garbage bin out front. My sneakers were coated in snow. It's not real snow if you can wear sneakers in it. Still, it was pretty for a while. The light filtering in the windows has that snow-tint to it, which is far more pleasant than your average gray, low-cloud, February day in Middle Tennessee. Next year, I may have to ship my children up to Canada for a couple of weeks. (Snickle? Are you listening?) I'll derive great pleasure when, upon their return, they will join me in rolling their eyes at the hapless Southern children trying to make snowmen out of a centimeter of insubstantial fluff. I will be vindicated. Labels: life, Southernisms |
About Me
I am: Mother to five stunningly individualistic children... Writer of young adult fantasy... Passionate advocate for Women At Home... Madly in love with my husband... In need of Organic Gourmet Chocolate on a regular basis. I've got a Paypal account if you'd like to contribute to the cause....
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