Snowy (sort of)

"You know," I said to some friends when I visited the frozen north, "in the south? We wouldn't leave our houses in weather like this." I swept inches of fluffy snow off my roof and windows before departing to obtain bagels and precious coffee. Large flakes fell from the sky and coated everything mobile. Stationary objects had long been blanketed in white and I looked out at them once I'd entered my freezing car.

"It's almost uncivilized," I groused, shaking my head at how cold I was and the fact that my coat and gloves were become wet as the snow that covered me began to melt. I drove slowly, taking my foot off the accelerator often to coat through slippery spots. When it came time to turn left, the person behind me honked at my lack of haste and extreme care.

"I know," I said. "Sorry. I'm out of practice. But everyone would have stayed home in the south - we would not have had this problem."

"Oh," I said this morning when I shuffled down the hall, "it did snow." Friend had mentioned that it was snowing in town and there was the barest dusting of white in my neighborhood too. The snow hasn't yet melted, instead forming patterns on the rooftops and nestling at the base of the grass that has remained green. It's pretty, though not at all impressive.

And - like the civilized southerners they are, traffic has been sparse as I've watched out my window where a continuous stream of cars should be and schools are all closed. Though I'm eager to depart this particular region, I will miss many things when I go. Waffle House. Walks every morning, mostly in t-shirts. The utter glory of springtime and all the flowering trees and bushes. Manners and friendliness and gently drawling accents. And the awesome power of snow to make life pause, snuggle in and enjoy the emergency supplies we have stocked for such an occasion.