It is still February, and we are being blanketed with more snow than I’ve seen in my six and a half years here. Admittedly, I said out loud yesterday that I was tired of winter and ready to shed my heaviest jacket and spiffy new red hat.

Woke up this morning to inches of snow and a wind that brings our temperature of 26 to zero. More of winter than I’ve ever seen here. Nostalgically, at least before the dig-out begins, my mind goes to Madison, especially that first winter of 2007, when David’s newly found heart condition left me in charge of snow removal, and I couldn’t quite fathom how fast and often snow could fall and accumulate. But there were often moments of sitting by the fireplace in the living room, watching the creation of a wonderland of the weather outside. The challenge of the eventual clean-up competing with wonder and awe.

 A snow plow just came up the street, pushing a huge scoop of snow. I’m beginning to hear about tomorrow’s cancellations. HILR may pivot to Zoom for all classes, a small, almost happy remnant of Covid days. Resilient, to be sure. And this is not a play-outside-in-the-snow day. Cheshire reminds me that children were supposed to be going back to school after winter break.  Pity the parents.

The windows are speckled with drops of ice that were liquid when I first woke up. Looking out the window is like trying to see out of an abstract lace curtain. Snow is blown onto the corners of the windows. Trees and bushes and power lines sway much more than usual in the wind. The sky is the recognizable gray of a winter storm.

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