(Note from the author. I wrote this the week before Christmas. We've since had a blizzard that garnered us 11 inches of snow. Please don't throw things at my house.)
If it is cold, I am a firm believer that it should snow. I am not much of a fan of cold weather, but I think snow is lovely. Snow has a romance to it that not many other weather phenomenon can claim. Snow makes you want to stop what you are doing and watch it in silence for a little while. I know some of you are probably big anti-snow people, but I bet even the most hardened snow dislikers amongst you would admit to a slight pause to watch the peaceful flakes swirl down from the sky.
I wasn’t much of a snow fan when I was younger. Everything closed and Mom wouldn’t take us anywhere because of the icy roads. It was always wet, slushy mess that soaked my gloves in a few seconds and made snowball fights akin to being hit with a baseball.
But then we moved to New England! We had heard that Cape Cod doesn’t get much snow. I thought that was the same as saying Hertford doesn’t get much snow. I soon found out that we measure snow differently. Not much to New England would make us roll our streets up. Once at Sears I inquired about a odd-looking mulching machine they had on display. The nice Sears employee shook his head at my Carolina accent and informed me it was a snow thrower. Well, I had certainly never seen the likes of that before! I was pretty sure we didn’t need anything as complicated as that, so I talked Craig into a cute snow shovel. When we got home I put it in the shed about 50 feet from our house.
A big winter storm arrived and I excitedly called my parents that evening to tell them we had 6 inches of snow! We had white-out conditions! How fun! But I woke up the next morning to 46 inches of snow. That was beyond words, even for yours truly. I didn’t call my parents for a good hour because I was seriously stunned. It was still snowing. We couldn’t even open our door! Then the faithful moment came when Craig asked “where is the shovel?” and I had to sheepishly tell him it was in the shed. Way over there in the shed, which was completely encased with snow. I’m just thankful our marriage survived that moment. Speaks volumes for the character of my husband. Turns out, snow shovels go in the basement.
We have had some snow here in Hertford this winter, and while we don’t need our shovel, we still have it. I like to bring it in the house at Christmas and stick a bow on it. It’s a bright red shovel and makes for cute winter decoration, but mostly, I just like having it close. I hope I never have to shovel this driveway with it! I might look into one of those contraptions at Sears.
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