Snow Day

I'm on the right in the red pants. 

When I was a child we lived in New York State. It was the sixties and we had real winters back then. We skated on the frozen lake, tromped around in the snow. We played outside until we had hives from the cold. We even had chestnut trees in the front yard and, yes; we roasted them over an open fire.

Every once in a while we were graced with a blizzard and schools were closed. Oh, how we loved having a "snow day". Of course there was no email in those prehistoric times. We had to listen to the radio to find out about school closings. Districts were announced one by one and we kids would erupt in cheers when they announced that Rockland County Schools would be closed. I think my mother hoped we would all just go back to bed, but that didn't happen. It was far too exciting.

Once we spent the whole day building an igloo fort around a tree. It was so substantial a child could almost stand up inside. At least that's how I remember it. We played outside a LOT. The TV was black and white and there were only a few channels. There were no computers or iPads. I shudder to think about how young minds are developing now with so much "screen" time. A school nurse told me she could tell how much a five year old plays outside by checking their eyesight.

Northern California coastal childhoods are very different. Many elementary schools don't have cafeterias. It is assumed lunch will be eaten outside at picnic tables every day. In a normal year there is a fair amount of rain so that plan is somewhat flawed. When it rains lunch is eaten inside the classroom.

We haven't had to worry about that for a few years because it's been so dry. "Dry" meaning a parched state in a cataclysmic, catastrophic historical drought and all that implies. I'm not fond of droughts. This is the second or third since I've lived here. It's stressful to think about there not being enough water. You worry about wasting a drop - even flushing the toilet, for god sakes! The last big drought spawned phrases like "If it's yellow, it's mellow" and "If it's brown, flush it down." Ugh.

Our weather here is confusing. It's likely to be warmer on Thanksgiving than the 4th of July. Summers are cold and foggy, but September and October can be oppressively hot. This year the weather was even more confusing. Late heat waves begat blossoms on Magnolias that usually bloom in January. Roses have been blooming in the garden. December roses! Spring may be strange, because so much of it has already sprung.

Now we have rain, glorious rain. Back to back storms for weeks: the storm door is officially open for business. Last week high tides collided with torrential downpours and gridlock ensued. It took Eric over four hours to reach downtown San Francisco by bus. The bus driver even had to stop and make a pit stop.

That was nothing compared to what was forecast for this week. Weather prognosticators threatened that we would have the most prodigious precipitation in five years. Considering it’s been almost completely dry for four years, that's not such a credible threat. Certainly not red or orange. High winds, power outages - the outlook appeared so dire that schools were cancelled all over Marin. Lucky us. We got a snow day!

It has been raining continuously, but still doesn't feel like the storm of the century. We have power and the street (which has flooded in the past) isn't flooding. It's lovely to be home, but snow days are different here in Marin County, California. For one thing, we don't have to spend half the day shoveling the sidewalk. That's a plus. We took a walk in the rain, read by the fire and drank hot chocolate.

I'm not complaining, but there was something so magical about those snowstorms we had as children. There is nothing like the silence of falling snow. Rain makes rat-a-tat sounds on the roof, especially on all our skylights. It can be irritating after a few days. Snow mutes sounds. It's indescribably peaceful.

Silent snow falling hour after hour covering every leaf and branch with an ivory glaze. Walking through the woods where no steps had gone before. Making snow angels, building snowmen, drinking mom's special "Russian Tea". Rosy cheeked, we warmed by the fire in our long underwear. Time seemed to stand still. Now that's a snow day.