I like snow. Really, I do. It’s just that I have very specific requirements for snow.
One, the snow must melt 48 hours after falling. I call this the “Snow Beautification” doctrine. (Note this doctrine doesn’t apply to ski resorts.) This is because any snow lingering after a couple of days is starting to lose its luster and storybook quality.
Chances are the snow has gotten dirty and morphed from being magical to mediocre and downright irritating. You look out your window and sigh thinking this mess needs to melt.
The worst is all the grime encrusted snow piled up in parking lots. Ugh, it looks like the refuse after a Big Foot and Abominable Snowman jamboree.
My second snow “must have” is that it needs to be fluffy. No one likes moisture laden snow. It’s like eating a chunky pasta sauce where you don’t know what those chunks are. Is it a veggie? Is it mystery meat? Is it croutons?
That’s right – croutons. I had a relative who “thicken up” her sauce by stirring in salad croutons. She called it her secret ingredient. Her secret ingredient should have been opening up a can of Ragu.
In what I’m going to call the ultimate act of kindness one year my mother gifted this relative a case of premium pasta sauce for her birthday. I don’t think it was appreciated by the birthday recipient, but the rest of the extended family was thrilled.
(You know if I had a writing style I think it would be called always going off on a tangent or maybe the love of a good sidebar. No, on second thought I think it would probably be the overshare no one wanted, and the story didn’t need. So, my apologies, I will now go back to snow.)
The main issue, of course, with wet snow is that it’s heavy and back breaking work to shovel. Did you know that fluffy snow can weigh about four pounds per square foot while wet snow can exceed 12 pounds per square foot? Yes, friends I have done my research on wet vs. fluffy and fluffy wins every single time.
I will concede that wet snow makes a better snowman due to its superior packing power. But as an adult I’m willing to sacrifice Frosty the Snowman and friends so I can shovel my driveway without injuring myself.
My third snow requirement is that it must not impede my freedom for more than 36 hours. I used to be in love with a snow day or two but since the pandemic I start to get jittery if I feel like I’m trapped in my house.
I know I’m not alone because friends, very flexible women I sort of know in my Pilates class, and random strangers at the grocery store whom I’ve had deep discussions with have all shared this same feeling.
Since the pandemic being stuck at home has gone from how fun let’s make cinnamon rolls to how soon can I get out of here? The thought of our freedom to go and do being suppressed has a foreshadowing of doom that has smothered the enchantment of snow days.
But with all this complaining and these rules and regulations, nothing can make me hate winter. It’s cold, it’s cozy and any time I’m not profusely sweating I consider that a win.
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Snarky in the Suburbs 