Photo via spectrumlocalnews.com
As a child, every winter I longed for the annual snow day to arrive. Like most kids, it was a day to stay home from school and play with my friends in the glorious white magic. Sometimes we were lucky to get two days. Sadly when the snow melted, it was like saying farewell to a former life. The sun would beam its hot rays on our city and take away the precious gift given by Mother Nature. The magic was gone, and we had to return to reality.
As I grew older, I began to perceive snow days in a different light. Instead of it being a day to play in its magnificence, it is now a day for the city to stop and take a break from the madness of everyday life. Schools and businesses are closed. The streets are deserted. The city is quiet with the exception of children and their parents playing in their yards.
The cities in the Piedmont area of North Carolina treat the arrival of snow as an extinction-level event. The day before it hits, people flock to the grocery stores to empty the shelves containing bread, milk, bottled water, and whatever else floats their boats. The idea is to be prepared in case they will be trapped inside for days without food and power, which has proven to be true in some areas—losing power that is.
Trucks apply salt onto the streets; businesses do the same for their parking lots and sidewalks. But no matter how much they prepare, all schools are closed, and they'll stay closed until all the snow and ice have melted. Few of the big businesses are open but will close early. Because we rarely receive snow in the winter, no one—except for those that moved in from the north—is ready for the annual snow storm.
What is scarier to Charlotteans than soft, beautiful snow? Black ice forming overnight on the roads when the temperatures fall. Whenever a snowstorm is expected, I would wish it to be deep and hazardous enough to convince my employer not to make us come to work.
Again, it is the halting of the world and the calmness a snowstorm delivers that I favor.
When the world stops, the noise stops. The chaos that sadly keeps the cities alive has transferred to the busy local new stations that present live snow coverage all day. If you live in an area that receives monstrous amounts of snow each year, snow so deep it swallows your doghouse, you’re probably hating me at this moment. Don’t get me wrong, I understand months of never-ending snow can make you crazy. I’ve seen what it did to Jack Nicholson in The Shining. If I had magical powers, I would gladly transfer some of that excess snow to my city.
Sadly, in the last ten or so years, the annual snow day in the Piedmont area of North Carolina has ceased. It is replaced with cold, nasty, dreary rain, which causes depression in some people. At times I didn't know if my mood was darkened because the snow missed us again, or if my serotonin levels were low due to the dark atmosphere. Probably both.
On the bright side, our city did receive its first snow day since forever this past January. It may have been just less than six inches deep, but the calmness and joy had returned. Even as the pandemic kept most people in their homes to work, there were few cars and humans outside to pollute the city.
I must face the harsh reality; my city is growing with more people, more cars, and more businesses. And to grow or evolve, the old ways have to be sacrificed. More people, cars, and businesses mean more global warming, which gives us more airless humidity, more homeless animals, and the extinction of snow.
For northern states, the punishment is more snow and less heat. For western states, the punishment is more rain droughts. I think Mother Nature does not like it when civilization prospers.
I dream of one day moving to a secluded area in the mountains of North Carolina and having a home built just to return to those snow days. I’ve never tried to write a book where there was snow outside; the change in scenery could be nice.
I don’t think I could live in a northern state like Minnesota where winters are blanketed with snow all season long and the temperature can fall below zero. I don’t think I’m tough enough.
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