Oh The Weather Outside Is Frightful


You realize it’s December, right? It’s supposed to do this

Let It Snow is technically not a Christmas song, making it a totally legit lead choice for Wendy’s-song du jour-internal-iPod-shuffle-in-her-head today.  My house is eerily quiet this morning.  I’m watching it snow, hunkered down in the love seat under the afghan knitted by my grandma.  I’m wrapped in silence, and it’s beautiful.

Christmas evening I drove the boys up to my parents’ house, where they’ll be staying until New Year’s Eve.  “Up North” provides a very different cluster of activities for the kids, for which I’m grateful.  Not only do they spend time with their grandparents without my interference,  but they also do things like fletch their own arrows for archery, make homemade pasta, split and stack wood for the wood-burning stove, and drive.  Yes, my 10- and 12-year-old sons have been issued an up north driver’s license, and it’s strictly don’t ask-don’t tell for me.  My children can barely navigate their way out of the back seat of our vehicle some days, so the thought of them driving a truck scares the living crap right out of me.  Sure, my dad is there beside the boys, but denial is the safest route my mind travels re: my yahoos behind the wheel.  They see deer and bear up there, they view wild turkeys which are the world’s most galactically stupid creatures, and sundry farm and wildlife forms.  I love this for them.  Their mother, much to her own parents’ grave disappointment, is a city girl.  This is why I deliver the small peeps, then hoof it back to the city in short order.  I love the outdoors on my own terms.  I know it sounds capricious and arbitrary, and that’s because it is.  I’m not up north; I’m in my living room, the only sounds audible are my fingers hitting the keys here and the rhythmic on-and-off cycling of the furnace.  Aaaaaah.

It’s snowing.  It’s lovely.  It’s quiet.  It’s amazing.  Watching the local morning newscasts would lead one to believe it’s the snowpocalypse, from which we may never dig out and find daylight again.  Seriously.  It’s the first “winter storm” of the year here (quotes intentional–if I were able to create a screen crawl and snow graphic on WordPress, I totally would because the 3-5 inches of snow predicted are big news here, big enough to warrant big, scary TV “winter storm” status), and the local news outlets have lost their collective damn minds.  Get over it, people.  It’s Wisconsin in December.  Remember when we were all dreaming of a white Christmas?  That was three days ago!!  Three.

I miss my kids, but not enough that I want them here to detract from my state of bliss right here, right now.  My husband has been working third shift this whole week, yes, including the holidays (boo!), so he is sleeping right now, and I am glad of that too.  Don’t judge.  I love my Y-chromosome carriers to the stars and then some, but I love that I have a few seconds of solitude and perfect peace.  I LOVE that I’ve been given the opportunity to gaze blindly off into middle distance into a sea of white.  It’s dream-like almost.  Sometimes the flakes float straight down.  Then a southern wind kicks them to the left, hard, until an angry gust from the north throws them back in line.  There’s beauty in this back-and-forth choreography, some predictability even.  I’ve been watching for awhile now, discerning patterns where nature never intended them.  Every so often I spy a single, enormous flake and follow it all the way down.  Soon enough I will have to move, but not yet.  For now, I have swapped out my internal iPod for the howl of wind across the chimney.  Today it’s my favorite song.


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