Growing up in Rhode Island, we did not get quite as much snow as our northern New England neighbors.
But, when it did snow, it was magical.
I can remember looking out the living room window and seeing the fat, wet flakes falling down and being illuminated by the street light.
I knew the following day there would be no school. Instead there would be sledding to do, snow forts to make and, alas, a driveway to shovel, too.
Over thirty years later, a snowy night still holds some sort of magic for me.
I want to be out in it. To hear my muffled footsteps. And to hear the very faint sound of the falling snow as it piles up snowflake by snowflake.
When I am out in the snow at night, the local neighborhood takes on a different feel. The everyday walk become special.
The world seems asleep.
It is beautiful.
When the first truly sizable snow storm for 2016 hit Boulder, I could not just stay inside.
I wanted to walk in it.
Layers of fleece, thermal underwear, socks and running pants were worn. A windshell was thrown on. The seldom used insulated hiking boots were laced up and the winter wonderland was explored on foot.
It was 9PM or so at night. And I did want to go home. It was too lovely out.
I extended my walk…but eventually made my way home.
There would be no sledding or snow fort making (and, to be fair, no driveway shoveling) the following day. I did have to work.
Unlike my parents, my job is portable. I can, and did, Work From Home (WFH). No long, messy and potentially dangerous commute for me.
A WFH day means I drink my own coffee. The kitchen table becomes my temporary desk. And meetings are done by conference calling or Skype.
What it also means is that I can walk in the snow still being dug out even as late as lunch time.
And I have no commute back home.
A stroll to the grocery store can be done as soon as I shut my laptop lid closed when the work day is done.
With still fresh snow on the ground, and the cold and bracing air, even the walk to the grocery store along the a local bike path is memorable.
Based on the boot prints leaving from the plowed bike path, I was not the only person pleased with the sight of the winter landscape and felt compelled to take a photo or two.
The sun would soon be setting, but I had time for one last photo. A photo from above the creek from where I exited the bike path near the shopping center.
My groceries were bought. A walk was done in the early part of night. Dinner was made. And I settled in for another winter night.
No new snow tonight. And tomorrow is supposed to be warmer.
A more typical, and hectic day, will be had.
But for two days the world was a little slower and a little more quiet.
And just a bit more memorable, too.
Agree. There is nothing quite like being alone in the woods when it’s blanketed with snow.
In East Texas, where I live, snow is very rare indeed, but I know what you mean. I once took an early morning trail ride when there were no other tracks but my own, just undisturbed snow. I felt really privileged.