The Silence of Snow

We just got completely buried in snow. As in 30 inches. We used two snow days. My kids had a blast and Zach has a slight cold, so the extra time at home was probably a good thing for him.

I don’t complain about the weather. Or rather, I rarely complain about the weather. It is what it is. Even the snow. I make the choice, most of the time, to just embrace what’s happening outside.

I actually usually enjoy a good snowstorm. People have told me it’s because I’m a teacher and I get to stay home, which may be true. Although often it’s snowy at home but since I work about 45 minutes away I still have to go to work.

Either way, I do really enjoy the peace of a snowstorm. It’s the quietest form of extreme weather. I love it. And I do realize that this coming from my own, privileged experience. If the snow is truly extreme, as it was this week, I get to stay home. Our house is nice and cozy. We have a generator. I love the quiet power of a snowstorm because I’m experiencing it from the comfort of my home. I get to get something delicious happening for dinner and bake banana bread. However, this is still my experience, and for me, I love snowstorms.

The Silence of Snow
Ruth D. Velenski

The night sky is a dull grey white.
An opaque dust sheet floats so light
Upon the roofs and lamps and cars.
It settles so softly like falling stars.

It sneaks in crevices and onto window sills.
Piles up in soft layers over roads and hills,
Weighs down branches, envelopes bark,
Skips and flutters across the depth of dark.

With dawn a scene of raw meringue.
From bough and bridge and roof does hang.
Through night’s deep slumber - a silent world
Descended - a ghostly shroud unfurled.

In slow motion, life begins to show.
The traffic crawls in a funereal row.
Children squeal in soundless delight.
Pedestrians slide in voiceless fright.

A world transformed into monochrome,
An aerosol sky spraying its white foam,
Floating in breathless, boundless speed,
Submerging all with voracious greed.