March 3, 2009|Comments (28)
Imagine our wonder and surprise when we awoke to a snow-covered yard in west-central Georgia. Our children, who had never seen snow, stared open-mouthed through the windows and then shouting questions rapid-fire like caffeined-up prosecuting attorneys. “Is it wet? Cold? Soft? What will we wear? Can we touch it? What’s it made of? Is that God’s dandruff?” Okay, so I fibbed about that last one. No one asked if the snow was God’s dandruff.
The excitement was contagious. Even Josh, who was probably born in a hospital which was encapsulated in an Illinois snow drift and has seen more than his share of winter wonderlands, got caught up in the joy of children and falling snow. We bundled the children up and watched as they crunched through the snow wearing more clothing than they’ve ever worn in their young Southern lives. The dogs raced around them in circles and the snow continued to fall as though a movie crew loomed above them with wireless artificial snow machines — such was the oddity of snow in this region.
The last time the dogs saw snow was when we lived in Washington state. Snow was rare but not miraculous there — though you couldn’t tell by the reaction of the locals who panicked and emptied the shelves of the Safeway in Yelm, WA as if the sun were expected to burn out within the hour. Josh and I appeared to be the seasoned veterans of inclement weather and calmly navigated the surrounding highways which were clogged with white-knuckled drivers who clutched their steaming coffee cups and steering wheels. Drivers Ed classes in Washington must not teach their students to steer into skids because we watched the I-5 ballet of spinning cars with a mixture of amusement and amazement.
Georgia drivers were not so ambitious as to venture outside their homes in the snow. Schools were canceled the night before by phone call (a really nice service, by the way — so much better than listening to hear your school announced on the radio or television in the morning) and the roadways were clear of travelers. It appeared that all forms of activity in our small corner of the world had come to a screeching halt. Priorities for the day? Watch the kids make snowpersons (We are SO politically correct down here.), make hot chocolate (though none for me because I gave it up for Lent), and pig out on venison chili in the company of my wonderful neighbors. Here are my kids building a snowperson:
I just thought you would want to know all of this.