For once, the weather forecasters were right on the money...as we slept, peacefully unaware, the snow kept coming, silently, stealthily, and so we awoke to bushes laden with heaping helpings of white, to the wind whistling around the south side of the house, and to the faint rumblings of thunder - yes, thunder snow, the meteorologists are calling it. It sounds like a locomotive traveling along a far distant track.
Here's what I love best about snowstorms -they force me to be quiet. After all, no one in their right mind would go out this morning. (Notwithstanding those crazy folks just featured on the news who made their way to Target at 7:00 a.m. just to get a Wii - remember, I did say no one in their right mind.) And so I have to stay home - there's no reason to risk life and limb for groceries at the market, or toiletries at Walgreen's, for a rehearsal at church, or even books at the library.
But it's sad, isn't it, that it takes an act of God to make me be still? It's a measure of how much I need this quiet that last night and this morning are the most content, the most relaxed, dare I say the most happy, days I've experienced in the past three weeks.
Why can't I impose stillness on myself once in a while? Write a prescription for it, deliver an executive order straight from the head honcho in charge of my life (that would be me, believe it or not!)
Mother Nature in her infinite wisdom, has given me this snowy, blustery day. A day to hunker down, put on another pot of coffee, maybe whip up a batch of cinnamon waffles or a rich ham and cheese omelet. There's a tall bookstack on my bedside table, a batch of Christmas cards that still need addresses, and a pretty new notebook I've been thinking about writing in.
The TV news people call it a blizzard.
I call it a gift.