Portland has a cute little habit of freaking out about snow. The idea of snow, the prospect of snow, the appearance of snow, these all warrant ad-nauseum conversations about the fluffy white stuff we all secretly love, or sadly for the faint-of-heart, love to hate. Or love to pretend to hate...but secretly love.
Snow makes humans nostalgic. Even those individuals who have grown up in places that never get snow, delight at the prospect of a "white Christmas" knowing the off chance of getting their wish fulfilled is slim to none. Yesterday marked the third "threat" of snow for the calendar year of 2011, and truthfully, by the disappointing show from mother nature the first two times around, I was skeptical. Office ladies were milling about with their 'snow-calling' sweaters bedecked with snowflakes and snowmen, trying to will it to be. Classroom teachers scoffed "see you tomorrow", or "be careful in all that snow out there" as I hopped on my bike and rode off into the sunlit afternoon. But, perhaps if you tote enough 'will' on sweaters combined with enough skeptics who secretly want the snow as much as the adorned, mother nature will actually grant you a white-coated morning to bask in; the snow day.
Not much by normal standards, and nearly gone by the time I finished this post, but I'm enjoying it, and the nostalgia it stirs up for my beloved days in a one-room cabin in the woods of Fairbanks.
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| room left, "kitchen", 2009 |
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| room right, "living room", 2009 |
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| Fairbanks' snow day, 2008 |
Je t'aime white morning, free day...no matter how fast you melt back into a normal Portland day.
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