Today I awoke to a snowfall that a girl from WNY could embrace! This was no meager snow event - it had depth. And the power hadn't gone off, which was a great bonus! It was officially a snow day!
The first clue that this was the real deal was the silence - true silence. No boy racers with their loud trucks were gunning the engine at the intersection outside my house. In fact, there were no sounds at all coming from my neighborhood. It was 2:09 pm before I heard the first children outside, and their sounds were not long-lived. It was 3:50 pm when my plow jockey arrived to plow and shovel. I opened the door to smile at him and say thank you (even though I didn't plan to leave the house today). I can't afford the cost of having him shovel all the sidewalk surrounding my house, so he shovels from my front porch down the walk and down part of the 8th St sidewalk leading to the driveway (nothing on the Monroe side of the house nor from my back door to the garage). Sidewalk shoveling was not something I thought of when I bought a little house on a corner lot. I don't feel like I'm a very good neighbor (there is a lot of sidewalk on Monroe), and I miss the little sidewalk plows that my hometown had when I was a child. The little plows travelled in pairs and would start at the same end of the street but on opposite sides, and race each other to the end of the street. We would sit in the window and wait for them to race by in a cloud of flying snow!
Plow jockeys and shovelers are as rare as hen's teeth this year. In fact, the firm that plows the church told us that they were unable to shovel for us this year due to a lack of workers. So I offer thanks for the shoveled walk and settle back into my snow day. I also know that if I want to recapture the feeling of being snowed in, all I have to do is go to my back door (which I'm not sure I can open), and look at the impressive amount of snow that stands between the house and garage. Suffice it to say, it is a blessing that I plan to stay in for a wee while.
View from my back door to the garage door and back gate
I am thoroughly enjoying today, which surprises me a little. As a child I loved winter and snow days. Dad plowed snow as one of his many side hustles, and would plow a great big pile of snow in the front and back yards - just perfect for a short saucer run or excavating a snow cave (or both). I spent hours out in the snow as a child enjoying fun in my back or front yard. Growing up in a suburb of Buffalo in a family that thought going to the park was a wilderness expedition best left for once or twice a year meant that outdoor play happened at home. As I sat today at the bay window looking out at my neighborhood, I realized for the first time how much this neighborhood reminds me of my hometown. Talk about coming full circle...at one time such a realization would have frustrated me, since I left WNY in my twenties and swore to never move back. And although I doubt I'll ever live there again, I look back on it now with a gaze softened by the years. Enough healing has happened within my soul that good memories can surface without being immediately swamped by the bad ones, allowing me today to travel back to deep snow and the backyard on Washington Ave. Sometimes my Dad would let me go plowing with him - a big treat because as the only girl in the family, I wasn't usually invited to do those kinds of things. He would let me operate the plow blade - great fun. At least it was fun until all the bumping, abrupt stops and driving backwards made me sick. I soon discovered that going out plowing was only fun for the first 10 minutes! Then I'd get laughed at and teased for being a girl (not fun). But for a moment, sitting high up in the truck and dropping the blade to plow the snow, I felt like I was on top of the world! Ditto for when I'd ride in the tow truck!
Winter in Colorado was heaven - if you wanted extended snow you went into the mountains for it. If it snowed in Denver, the sun would usually melt it the next day. Snow knew its place. But I lost my love of winter in the Adirondacks. In fact, my first winter up there I HATED the snow. Not being a skier, having snow that is measured in feet and hung around for weeks served no earthly purpose to me, and left me feeling trapped in a place that was, well, challenging. One particularly nasty storm left my neighbors going out their downstairs windows on snowshoes - a perfectly normal occurrence for them but a bit too much like a wilderness movie for me. I was lamenting my hatred of winter one day to a North Country colleague, who was surprised at my reaction and regaled me with stories of how he and his wife look forward to the cosiness of winter and all the beauty it brings. I looked at him like he was in serious need of supervision. He looked at me with deep pity. It was a short lunch.
Little did I realize that moving to Scotland would amplify that hatred of winter - not because of the snow, but because of the length of the nights. I was not prepared for the short winter days and had a visceral reaction to all the darkness that first full winter in Scotland. I was also not prepared for our central heating to lack a thermostat like we had in the American homes I had lived in. The heating was on or off, and since we were heating with propane and it was expensive, it was on for only a few hours in the morning and evening. The rest of the time it was off, and I felt perpetually cold and would resort to carrying a hot water bottle around with me when I was home. We had a fireplace in the living room for burning coal, and so if I was home during the day, I would keep a fire going in the fireplace (and every evening). A coal fire gave off a good deal of heat (and dust) but sitting close to it would warm me up... that is, if our labrador would share her space in front of the fire!
We had a coal bunker in the backyard where we'd go to fill up the coal bucket to bring inside for the fire, and one day when I was going out to get coal I saw my dear neighbor out tending to her horses. I went over to the fence and started to spew about my hatred of the dark, cold, coal, snow (and on and on and on) and she just smiled that gentle smile of hers and in her beautiful Welsh accent (which is one of the loveliest and most musical of accents) suggested that, perhaps, I might want to make peace with the cold and dark; make peace with winter. To everything there is a season...
Her advice landed like a seed deep in my heart (thank you, dear Ann). It has taken me twenty-one years, but I have finally reached the point of loving winter again. I have entered into the spirit of wintering, and learned to celebrate the blessings this season brings. As I write this I glance out the window and notice that it is snowing again and I smile. I notice how comfortable and cosy I feel - hygge, as the Danes would say. I take a moment to pray for those who lack shelter today and those who are working in this weather, especially our first responders. And then my prayer continues like a gentle conversation with a dear friend as we enjoy the scene together. The experience wraps around me like a warm, comfy blanket. Spiritual hygge.
Learning to find joy in the things we cannot change (like winter) and even learning to look forward to those aspects of winter that bring us joy (slower pace, natural beauty, hygge) is a new experience for me. Finding that I once again love winter has been a surprise - something I discovered in December, which did not feel at all winter-like and left me feeling like something was missing (quite a surprise!). I will celebrate the emergences of the crocuses and daffys in spring, the long days of summer and the vibrant beauty of autumn, but right now I will steep in the deep beauty and peace of winter.
And there is one more thing thing I've noticed lately - I'm enjoying my age more and more. I absolutely love being in my sixties. Although aging brings physical challenges, it also brings an inner freedom and spiritual clarity that is revelatory! Each stage of life brings with it both joys and challenges. But truly, from the point of view of my heart and soul, and to echo Sunday's gospel, the best was saved for last!
If you are interesting in reading about wintering, I can recommend Katherine May's book, Wintering: The Power of Rest and Retreat in Difficult Times. I enjoyed reading her chapter on January today as I gazed out at the snow and smiled.
What do you fight against in your life that would lose its negative power if you befriended it? What is your winter, and how can you learn to love it?
Wrapped up in a blanket, with love and hygge,
Kim
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