“It snowed. It snowed all yesterday and never emptied the sky, although the clouds looked so low and heavy they might drop all at once with a thud.” — Annie Dillard, Pilgrim at Tinker Creek
And then the snows came. If yesterday’s post was about the distinct lack of snow in the region, this morning brings the heavy accumulation of snow. Expected, hoped for, and now here. The timing could be better (it can usually be better), but the blanketing of snow is a blessing for those of us who embrace winter.
During those first winter storms, people who know a thing or two about snow are hyper-focused on preparation, stocking food, filling gasoline tanks and cannisters, and changing plans to adjust for the new reality of a storm on the way. As winter progresses, and one storm leads to another, we tend to get hardened. It’s just snow, just like the last storm and the one before that. They all blend together and winter fatigue sets in. Around here there’s nothing worse than an April snowstorm, just when everyone is sick and tired of snow.
In this place and time in the pandemic, every conversation I hear is related to COVID. We’re all sick and tired of it, but, like an April snowstorm, everyone is dealing with it yet again. What do we do about it? Prepare as best you can, shelter when you ought to, and venture back out when it’s safe to do so. And that, friends, sounds a lot like a snowstorm during the morning commute. We recognize the logic in taking measures to stay safe, or we don’t. This pandemic once again feels like it might drop down on all of us with a thud.
Here we go again. We all want normal, whatever that means now. Just remember that spring will come. For better or worse, these are days you’ll remember.