Snow is best appreciated when you can snuggle in with a cozy comforter, mug of hot liquid, and a book upon your knee at home.
Snow (or impending snow) is not appreciated when you are at an inner city school modeling writing lessons. The rooms buzz because there will be a two hour early dismissal. Classroom teachers are busy notifying parents of the early dismissal. Lunch must be served earlier than usual. Plus the classes are taking a computer assessment every day this week.
However, due to the early dismissal, I am able to combine two classes. There is only one class that I cannot meet with today.
I grab my sandwich from the fridge and head out the door. Snow is sifting down from the gray skies. Streets are still clear as I make my way to the highway. The sifting snow now becomes a pelting snow, flying into the windshield, trying to pierce the glass.
Brown jumbles of shrub limbs become outlined in white. The white dashed lane dividers disappear on the road. I land in the most cleared lane. Traffic continues to move steadily, as the visibility diminishes. I scan the road ahead looking for taillights as a warning.
Road signs warn of road conditions ahead. Cars did not heed the warning, their position along the road makes me wonder how they came to be there. Cautiously I continue on my journey. The road becomes narrower as the snow claims more and more real estate.
Finally, I pull into the garage. I breathe a sigh of relief. My fingers flex to work the tension out. My neck cracks as I turn my head. Tension evaporates from my body.
Yes, snow is best appreciated when you can snuggle in with a cozy comforter, mug of hot liquid, and a book (or computer to write a slice and read slices) upon your knee at home. I can appreciate the snow now.