You'd think to me, the transplanted Mid-westerner out here on the prairie, where snow's as common as rain, only with a two-day clean up, two inches of snow falling on my native land'd be duller than dishwater. But it's not. Actually, even with a thick shower of the white stuff swirling down right outside my window this very minute, the little light dusting of snow I picture in my parents' back yard makes me more homesick than peach cobbler with homemade ice cream ever could.
Down South, snow's not just another element. It's an all-out E-VENT.
Allow me to illustrate: By the time the ground was covered well last night, I'd gotten an excited! email! from Nana down in South Carolina. TWO INCHES ALREADY! My nephew Daniel blogged about his adventures sledding (FAST!) in his backyard in Virginia yesterday, my pal Katie in north Georgia wrote about her own magical night before the sun came up this morning, and my childhood best friend Marie, who lives with her family on the border of SC and Georgia, was on top of the story by lunchtime today, talking about getting her kids out in it to scrape together snowballs off the grass before it all melted. When the South gets snow, Southerners
And POOF! everyone South of the Mason Dixon is a kid again. A giddy, whoopin', hollerin', cafeteria-tray-sleddin', plastic-bag-on-their-feet-wearin', snowball-wieldin' kid.
Y'all, lest you think that I've become jaded up here in
It's just that up HERE, I do not have Nana, who will whip you up a cup of hot cocoa before the first flake hits the ground (WITH marshmallows, thankyouverymuch). I don't have Marie, who even as a self-conscious adolescent never even batted a pretty green eye at the notion of hopping around on my driveway in fuzzy, striped socks and my sister's discarded Candies™ slip-ons as we did our traditional Southern kid snowdance, and then jumping up and down squealing when the sky ptooey'd down a stray flurry as if in mocking answer to our humble pleas. I also don't have forty-leven people in the grocery-store line in front of me buying up all the milk and bread on the shelves like they might not be able to get out of their houses again 'til Spring thaw.
No, up here, snow's just something to shovel, blow, plow and scrape. Nobody seems to notice it much at all. Business is transacted as normal, even when you can't see your hand in front of your face for the blizzard, and last year there were snowdrifts piled up past the windows of the elementary school for most of February, but those darn kids were all in there, day after day, the buses running right on time past my house, with me inside shaking my head, muttering, "Mmmmmmmmmmmaaaaaaaan, what a buncha killjoys."
Have fun in the snow, Southland! Frolick and play the eskimo way and throw an extra snowball for me, wouldja?