Let It Snow Let It Snow Let It Snow

The Old Man is on snow watch tonight. The super-Doppler-prognostication-whiz-kids have predicted we might get up to 3-4 inches by mid day tomorrow. I've watched local news, Internet weather pages, and national news and they all are pretty certain our snow will happen. We've seen film footage of the piles of salt and the plows at the ready. People are buying milk and bread as if there will never be another loaf sliced or cow milked. Truth be told, most of those folks could survive for a week or better on what's already in the pantry. Failing that, keep in mind....its 3-4 inches. Inches.....not feet or fathoms. Four wheel drive SUV owners "will find it hard to sleep tonight." Much ado about nothing some would say, and I cannot argue, for more often than not, the soothsayers miss their guesses about what Mother Nature is planning. But, try as I may, I can't refrain from a trip to the window about every 3o minutes.....just to check. It's a holdover from the Park Street days.



My room overlooked an intersection. At this intersection was a street light. If I sighted just the right way, I could align that street light with a tree branch on one of the now famous mimosa trees and get a perfect view of snow falling. I could tell heavy from flurry, sleet from fluffy and freezing rain from the good stuff. There was no radar, no NOAA weather radios, and no way to tell if it was going to snow except by my dad's corns. They always seemed to ramp up just before bad weather. I did have another great "snow early warning system." Our house was on the same street as the highway department shops. Many the winter morning in the pre-dawn hours, I would awake to the unmistakable sound of tire chains on asphalt. Then I knew....it was going to be a very good day.


I miss the sound of tire chains; you just don't hear them much any more. At least not unless you happen to be following a snow plow out on the interstate, and who wants to do that? I want to wake up to the the magic sound of them struggling up the hill in front of my house. I want to line up my view with that mimosa tree and catch the thrill. I want to "help" my dad shovel the front sidewalk..............all from another time.


There's something reverent about a snow fall. The peace, uniformity, and beauty awaken memories that we can call up, miss them terribly, but savor their treasure all over again. And so I shall.

If you need me, I'll be over at the window.