Saturday, December 17, 2016

Watching the Snow

People who don't live in my neck of the woods often laugh at the way 2-3 inches of snow shut down schools and municipal offices. This picture is from the first day of Snowmageddon. Yes, green grass, nearly ready for mowing peeked through the snow. In the previous week, there was talk about early flowers poking through. I wore an open flannel shirt as my coat. (Yes, I live in the Hipsterville side of the country.)

Even so, we also prayed for more snow for the ski season on the mountain an hour or so drive away. Our concern with the environment means we don't use salt. Add some hills to the mix (hills which might be labeled 'mountains' in other parts of the country) and it's a set up for trouble.

The first week, the first school closure day was a bit of a bust. The next was icy and well-called. As usual, winter precipitation disappeared in the next days. Week two, the forecasters faltered and downgraded the coming storm. It hit midday Wednesday. By the time schools let out, the streets were snow-covered and growing icy. Commuters left work early and everything ran late. People arrived home after harrowing four to ten hour drives, instead of the usual twenty to forty minutes. They saw accidents, abandoned cars, near-miss accidents of their own, and even occasional abandonment of their own cars. Schools closed for the following day and later for the final day before Winter Break. City officials were taken to task for not being prepared. School administrations were chided for the hundreds of students stuck in schools until 6 p.m. or later the first night and for the accidents school buses had and for the students left to walk treacherous stretches from emergency bus route stops.

Even though I ventured out, I could safely watch the snow gather on and defrost off my windshield as I sat within and waited for it to clear. I was a mile away from home and certain I could hoof it home safely if need be.

There's something relaxing about's soundless entry into the day.... it's shining brightness. The cold adds to the effect, enticing one to hibernation. But our work-a-day world, with its constant lights and demand that we work on a particular schedule, finds this disruptive, disquieting and disturbing. We feel pulled in different directions. Are we here to live, breathe and enjoy life? Or are we here to carry on and ignore what Nature Itself is providing? What is the consequence of our ignoring Nature?

What do you do when the weather changes are extreme? How do you work in extremes of heat? cold? wet? storms? How does the weather effect your focus? What do you think of when you see snow outside your window? How do you balance the flow of Nature with the flow of work?

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