Looking out of my window here at work, and I see…White. Lots of white. The van, parked three rows away in the parking lot, is now mostly white as well, with very little of its blue paint or tinted windows showing through. Our parking lot is comparatively empty, with many lucky souls working from home. Wish I was one of them…

But after years of complaining about wanting a real winter, I’m getting it. In one month. Actually, in one week.

It’s odd. I knew it, in the back of my head, I knew that last weekend’s storm was one of the biggest we’ve had in a long time. But that it was the largest one since Patrick was born really put it in perspective. His entire life, there hasn’t been this much snow in one storm. Which also means that all 3 of my kids have never seen this much snow at one time, either. What this must be to them.

I know from watching them playing in the snow at the bus stop that this is a great delight. They aren’t concerned with the fact that it will be slow driving to and from work. That the driveway is going to be a mess when we get home. That the snowplow in the next couple of days will do it’s best to completely plow in the opening to the driveway, and that it will take just as long to dig out those 20 linear feet as it will to do the entire sidewalk around the house.

In short, it’s fun. Pure, liquid fun. I think I remember when I saw it as that. And maybe that’s why I wanted a real winter so much. Just to feel that same feeling when you looked out the window as a kid at the piles and drifts, but still were warm and snug inside your house. The wonder of how the entire landscape takes on a whole new look. Everything’s white. Everything’s quiet at night. And it’s cold because the snow is here, and maintaining it needs the cold. Not because it’s cold and gray, with dormant gray plants all around.

I’m not really looking forward to shoveling and snow-blowing. But I’ll do it because it’s the price to pay for the snow. I wanted it, after all.