Snow Days
Having moved to a milder climate five years ago, I felt a pang of nostalgia last December when the weather forecast said “chance of significant snowfall.” My excitement got the better of me and I did my “snow dance” like a young child hoping to get out of school for a day or two. I must have done it very well because for two months, we’ve been stuck in a weather pattern of almost regular weekend snowfalls.
Fortunately, I like snow, and I have yet to tire of the winter weather. I do not drive in snow, and I very much dislike sleet and freezing rain. But I love snow. Not only is it beautiful, it also transformative—it takes a world we know, our ordinary world, and changes it into something extraordinary, something starkly different. It takes the gray of winter and casts upon it a light, fresh, clean casing. And it does it slowly, evenly, and softly.
The other thing I love about snow is the Snow Day. Since I am able to do my job remotely, I am not excused from work when the white stuff falls from the sky. But working from home is much less stressful than a day in the office—no dress code, no distractions, no obnoxious co-workers, no maddening commute. However, working from home does not constitute a Snow Day. Snow Days come about when the winter weather cancels all activities not related to snow—work, errands, even gatherings with friends—and imposes a delightful excuse for time to myself.
My Snow Days have come on the weekends, giving me over forty-eight uninterrupted hours to enjoy perfect solitude. Don’t get me wrong—I look forward to spending time with my friends, doing volunteer work, and taking part in community events. But in the frantic race to get it all done, I often find myself longing for time just for me. Balancing work, community involvement, and a social life, it’s difficult to schedule time to tend to my own needs and interests. A Snow Day grants me the luxury of indulging myself in those needs and interests.
Aside from the obligatory shoveling exercise, I’ve spent my Snow Days confined to my house catching up on sorely neglected personal time. I’ve cracked open a new piano book I hadn’t yet found time to play. Practicing piano is a solitary activity and, although some people like to perform for their friends, I am admittedly not a good pianist, so I prefer to play alone. It gives me great pleasure, but I presume most listeners would find it just a step above cacophony. I’ve been joined by my little furry duet partner who occasionally hits a key or two but mostly just sits next to me on the piano bench while I play. She and I have greatly enjoyed the extra human-cat bonding time.
I’ve also used my Snow Days to practice a new hobby—making beaded jewelry. Frustrated that I could not find necklaces and earrings to match my clothing, I set out to make them myself. I signed up for a beading class which, coincidentally, happened to fall on the morning of the first major snowstorm of the season. I’ve made it a habit to buy sufficient supplies of beads and beading materials the week before a forecast snow event so I can ply my new trade while watching the winter weather and without fear of being interrupted.
And, yes, I spent more than the requisite time laying on the couch watching DVDs. It was much needed rest from the hard work of snow removal and a long-accumulated sleep deficit. It was also, simply, fun.
Inadvertently, sometime in between shoveling, playing piano, making jewelry, and vegging out in front of the television, I managed to find time to reflect on my life. Through solitude and introspection, I’ve discovered a great deal about myself and gained insights into some of the questions that have vexed me for years. With very few exceptions, I’m far too much of a multitasker to focus on any one thing at any given time, and my mind races so fast that meditation quickly becomes a stressful exercise in making mental to-do lists rather than a calming exercise of centering. It took Snow Days to give me the “time out” from the world that I lacked the discipline to give myself.
Looking back on the past few months, I appreciate the role that being childfree and single had in accomplishing all I did on my Snow Days. Perhaps I could have done it, but not likely. I needed a quiet indoors that matched the quiet outdoors. I also needed to focus on my own self-development, not on entertaining anyone else. Having children would have altered the entire nature of my Snow Days. Instead of playing piano, I’d be playing board games; instead of making jewelry, I’d be making mac and cheese; instead of watching adult shows on DVD, I’d be suffering through children’s programming. I certainly wouldn’t have had time for reflection. And instead of waiting in joyful anticipation of more Snow Days, I’d probably, like most parents, be looking forward to Back-to-School.
It looks like I may have one more chance for a Snow Day this winter season. I hope I get it—a final day to enjoy the beauty of soft, fluffy, wintery precipitation and the escape from the everyday world that comes with it. But then, after nearly four and possibly five feet of snow this year, I’m ready for spring.
Copyright Julie Nisley. Published 1 March 2010 in Editorials.
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