I have found a few quiet moments to blog on this hot summer day while Steve and the girls are out for a swim at the park. They left Sydney Joy and myself at home to take naps and enjoy the air conditioning. And so I sit on my couch feeling the cool air play games with my hair, reminiscing about Michigan winters and how much I miss them.
I have often said to friends that I miss winter in the Mid-West, usually around February when the temperature here is 35 and its been overcast and rainy for 2 months and I wish it would just snow already so the sun can come back out. They understand the gloom factor of Northern California winters, but can never wrap their heads around my want for snow. I explain about the beauty of fresh fallen powder, the fun and frolic of sledding, skating, skiing and snowmobiling. I try to convey the sport in catching snowflakes on your tongue, and making a snow angel with no visible footprints within 3 feet. But they still don't get it. And I have to admit that I don't really get it either. I also remember, of course, frustrating hours spent shoveling the driveway only to realize that when you got to the bottom you had to start again at the top. I recall icy roads and slippery slush. Wet socks and frozen fingers. Cold air that takes your breath away, and a chill in your bones that takes hours to shake off. So why do I miss Michigan winters? I may not be able to tell you, but William P. Young, author of The Shack, the book I am currently reading, can. I read this paragraph yesterday at it hits the nail on the head...

There is something joyful about storms that interrupt routine. Snow or freezing rain suddenly releases you from expectations, performance demands, and the tyranny of appointments and schedules. And unlike illness, it is largely a corporate rather than individual experience. One can almost hear a unified sigh rise from the nearby city and surrounding countryside where nature has intervened to give respite to the weary humans slogging it out within her purview. All those affected this way are united by a mutual excuse, and the heart is suddenly and unexpectedly a little giddy. There will be no apologies needed for not showing up to some commitment or other. Everyone understands and shares in this singular justification, and the sudden alleviation of the pressure to produce makes the heart merry.

So, I now take a moment of silence in tribute to Snow Days long past, remembering them fondly and whispering a prayer that someday I might experience one more.

And as I snap back into reality, I realize that it is 104 degrees outside, and that makes me sweat just thinking about it. Oh well.

Yours 'till a Cop can yell "Freeze!" to the rain, and it does.