There are many beautiful poems written about the beauty of snow. As a child I always loved to read John Greenleaf Whittier's "Snowbound." It sounded so exciting to be shut in by the snow and having to huddle around a fire.
Then there is an earlier poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley whose words are, "If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind?" We just finished the season where we sing about "Let it Snow, Let it Snow, Let It Snow" and "I'm Dreaming of a White Christmas." I think I have had enough of that for awhile -- maybe a year from now I will appreciate it again, but right now I don't burst into song or wax poetically when I look outside at our plentiful snow.
I probably would feel better if I had a house full of kids who were excited about going out to play in the snow. But then I remember all those wet clothes drying out all over the house, and the problems putting on all the bulky clothing before they go outside and realize that it wasn't so good even when the kids were little.
Now, concerns about slipping on the ice, driving on snow covered roads, hungry birds searching our empty bird feeder because I hadn't gotten to town to buy more bird seed, and trying to keep fresh water for our outdoor cats in their heated shelter, occupies my mind much more than poems or songs.
The birds aren't the only things that are hungry either. Because of the snow we haven't gone to town to go shopping. I thought we had plenty of holiday leftovers to tide us for a couple days. But when the couple days extended into a couple more, we realized that certain staples must be bought or we will end up fighting for that last bit of cheese and cracker. I don't have all my funeral details worked out yet and I would probably be the loser in such a fight, so it sounds like a trip to town would be the logical response to our situation.
When I got to the car the driver's side door wouldn't open, so I checked the other three doors. All of them opened nicely but the one I needed stayed firmly shut. That would be no problem. I have often slid over from the passenger seat to the drivers seat in the past. But they don't make cars the way they used to do. There are many obstacles between the passenger seat and the driver's seat. And I realized that I am not the same as I used to be either. I finally made it, buckled up, adjusted the mirror and started the car. Or rather I attempted to start the car. No nice engine sound began. In fact after the first click, nothing happened.
OK, now do I have to go back to the passenger door to get out? No, wouldn't you know it. The door beside me opened easily from the inside. Thankful for small favors I returned to the house to announce my problem and get the keys to the pickup.
The roads were nicely bladed so we had no other problems as we did our errands and bought enough groceries to last us through even a "Snowbound" situation if it should occur. Every other shopper in the store seemed to have the same idea, as there were long lines.
The manager who came to help expedite things carried my purchases to put in the back of the pickup. He said he had heard we were due for some more snow in a couple days. When I groaned he said, "I don't care. I love snow!" I had a hard time smiling when I thanked him for carrying my groceries.