(no subject)
I grew up in Switzerland, so I'm not unacquainted with snow. Of course, child-snow is not the same as adult-snow.
Child snow means, if it piles up high enough and you live far enough away from the main roads, that the bus can't get to you and you won't have to go to school (assuming non-wheedle-proof parents); this, sadly, was never the case for me, but one did always hope. Child snow means you can have snowball fights at recess, as long as you avoid the little turd - always male - who thinks packing stones in them is amusing. Child snow means getting wet and cold and red around the ears, and then going inside for a magically-appearing cup of something hot to drink. Child-snow is exciting, and fun.
Adult snow is cold, wet, sticky, and has to be brushed off cars and shoveled off the path. It squishes into your shoes no matter what you do, because you can't wear frog-face rubber boots whenever you go out, and it drips down the back of your collar, because you also can't wear a puff-ball parka every time you leave the house. Adult snow means higher heating bills, and that's never fun.
A storm blew by and dropped another 4" or so last night. We were lucky - it turned to a cold rain late in the night, and now at least the roads are clear. The piled white blanket is really a mushy mass of slush. The sky remains leaden, so there's not even the comfort of sun on snow, which at least is pretty.
The older I get, the less I like it. Some things you get on better with at a distance, or in wishful thinking - my memories of snow are a lot more pleasant than the reality of it, these days. Cold makes me ache, the grim raper grinning just past the corner of my eye saying what, you thought you'd always be young?
And yet... And yet, when it started to snow last night, I had my nose pressed to the window just like I used to thirty years ago.
Child snow means, if it piles up high enough and you live far enough away from the main roads, that the bus can't get to you and you won't have to go to school (assuming non-wheedle-proof parents); this, sadly, was never the case for me, but one did always hope. Child snow means you can have snowball fights at recess, as long as you avoid the little turd - always male - who thinks packing stones in them is amusing. Child snow means getting wet and cold and red around the ears, and then going inside for a magically-appearing cup of something hot to drink. Child-snow is exciting, and fun.
Adult snow is cold, wet, sticky, and has to be brushed off cars and shoveled off the path. It squishes into your shoes no matter what you do, because you can't wear frog-face rubber boots whenever you go out, and it drips down the back of your collar, because you also can't wear a puff-ball parka every time you leave the house. Adult snow means higher heating bills, and that's never fun.
A storm blew by and dropped another 4" or so last night. We were lucky - it turned to a cold rain late in the night, and now at least the roads are clear. The piled white blanket is really a mushy mass of slush. The sky remains leaden, so there's not even the comfort of sun on snow, which at least is pretty.
The older I get, the less I like it. Some things you get on better with at a distance, or in wishful thinking - my memories of snow are a lot more pleasant than the reality of it, these days. Cold makes me ache, the grim raper grinning just past the corner of my eye saying what, you thought you'd always be young?
And yet... And yet, when it started to snow last night, I had my nose pressed to the window just like I used to thirty years ago.