As a girl born and raised in Massachusetts, it’s safe to say that I’ve seen snowfall a day or two in my life. Some of my favorite memories are associated with snow.
All throughout elementary, middle and high school, we would log onto a website that could predict whether or not there would be a snow day. I would peak my eyes over my blanket in the early morning when I would hear my parents getting ready for work, hoping that they would come into my room to tell me that school had been canceled for the day. My friends would wear their pajamas inside out and hide spoons under their pillows in hopes that some superstition would make the snow fall at the perfect time for a snow day to be deemed appropriate. So, it’s safe to say that it’s definitely not my first rodeo when the school calls to say that there’s a snow day.
My brothers and I would bundle up in our red, blue and purple hats respectively, and go outside to sled and have snowball fights. Upon returning inside, our parents would warn us to stomp all of the snow out of our boots before taking them off and laying our wet clothes across the radiators to dry off for the night.
My absolute favorite part about snow is the period right when it begins to fall like magic from the sky. I tell myself that I have the Lorelai Gilmore secret ability to detect it, but I think I’m just so used to it falling that I know how the air feels right before it happens.
My friends from across the country think I’m insane when I tell them that I love listening to the snow fall. I promise you, that if you haven’t gone outside during a snow storm and just stood there and let the silence envelope you before the plows hit the streets, you need to do it. It’s relaxing and refreshing. The calm before the storm, or after, I guess. The quiet lull at about 5 a.m. before the snowplows hit the road and busybodies go outside to dust off their cars and clear their driveways in order to start the day. Or even at midnight right when it starts to snow and everyone is already tucked away in their beds. There’s just something so magical about the fresh blanket of snow on the ground before it’s cleared away. It shimmers away as the light from the moon and street lamps hit it at just the right angle. It smells refreshing, and while that may seem impossible as it’s just frozen water on the ground, there’s a clean quality to it.
I’ve been skiing for quite a few years now, and nothing gets better than a nice ski run through the glades up in Vermont. You’re surrounded by trees and fresh, untouched snow, that’s ready for your skis to attack. Snow tends to calm me down, despite how slippery and scary it can sometimes be.
Six years ago, my hometown canceled Halloween because the snowstorm was so intense. Everyone rushed to the grocery store to stock up for the week, and some packed up their cars and headed elsewhere. I remember one of the nights so well. It was the Wednesday, and my dad and I very carefully drove to a town about 35 minutes away to go grocery shopping to stock up. People were out and about, shopping, laughing and preparing for whatever else Mother Nature had to come. As we drove back to my house down the street that cuts through town, the only song on the radio was Michael Jackson’s “Thriller.” My town was barren; not a person in sight, like a scene from apocalyptic thriller. A somewhat chilling factor about snow is that it has the ability to wipe out an entire town, locking them into their houses to sit by the fire and share memories.
Just the other day as I was about to sit down at my desk, I peered out the window to see snow falling. I was immediately relaxed when I saw the snowflakes fall from the sky, not knowing where they would end up. It was all fun and games until the snowplows hit the streets and turned that beautiful white fluff into grey slush. That’s honestly probably the worst part about snowfall, despite how necessary it is.
Then you have the moments of hatred when you essentially have to ice skate down Commonwealth Ave or practice your ballet skills, that you’ve tucked away for the last 12 years of your life, in the slippery dining hall.
Nevertheless, there’s nothing better than seeing the joy on someone’s face who has never seen snow fall before. It’s priceless.
There are sounds associated with the good snow perfect for snowballs or the snow squishing underneath your boots. Another favorite is when a huge mess of it simultaneously falls from the trees in the backyard onto the already snow-covered ground, making a very distinct sound.
No matter how old I get, I will always be up for going outside and playing in the snow. I’ve always loved looking at snow-covered towns, but a snow-covered Boston is by far one of the most beautiful sites I have ever seen.