So, last night, my school called to say it would be a two hour late start. Okay, I'm cool with that. That's always fun. So, we get to school. We go through three classes.
We find out that we're going home. At 12:20, as soon as lunch is over.
It's barely even snowing-- there's a half-inch of slush on the ground.
But really, I'm not complaining. It's exciting, interesting, fun that we're not in school. But we're supposed to have the biggest snowstorm in four decades, starting tomorrow. The thing about where I live, is that we don't get snow here. We get dustings. Just an inch or so, for one or two days. Snow days can be because of one or two inches, or just ice. The only time I remember there being a substantial amount of snow for a substantial amount of time was three years ago, over winter break in fifth grade. And now, we're supposed to have lots of snow. It should be interesting. And fun, of course. Except for the making-school-up-at-the-end-of-the-year bit. That shouldn't be so fun.
The winter hush that usually comes with snow certainly hasn't come today. At the moment I can hear a truck outside my house, the whissshhhh of slush being thrown up by car tires. At school the air was filled with excited voices. At home, the whispering roar of the fire next to me, the occasional car driving past. More whissshhhhing sounds, an airplane overhead, wind in the fireplace.
How much longer until the city is blanketed in a soft, white blanket, muffling the sounds, dimming the senses? I don't know. Nobody can guess when this miraculous phenomenon that comes only with snow will occur.
The Dandy Lioness