Living in Rochester, you get used to snow. It's there, you shovel it, the town plows, and it pretty much goes away-- though not as quickly as my husband would like. The panic in DC earlier this month gave us Upstaters the giggles. When I lived in NYC, snow was a treat. Central Park in the snow is beautiful and quiet and mysterious, a wonderful place to cross country ski. Snow made NYC seem like a much smaller place. The brave souls who ventured out on the slippery sidewalks and in the park shared a friendly comraderie, smiling and saying hello... I loved the snow in NY.
And I loved it in VT when I was in college. Those sunny, bright, over-exposed, sparkly days after a big snowfall... frigid but gorgeous.
The snow is falling here today, in what is supposed to be the storm of the Rochester season. So far, it's a little disappointing. All the storms this season seem to have gone south of us, or east of us, or west of us. I'm probably begging the fates to hand us a whopper, but I wouldn't mind enough snow for my kids to have a snow day. There's nothing like the feeling of waking up in the morning to snow piled up against the door and the voice on the radio reading your school district's name on the closing list... it's not unlike that Christmas morning rush of euphoria, only there is no wrapping paper to get rid of.
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