Despite having spent pretty much my entire life in places with snowy winters (three decades and counting in New Hampshire, plus 7 years in Chicago), I still tend to underestimate the impact that winter precipitation can have on one’s daily life. This has been particularly true this winter, which has been warmer and less snowy than any I can remember.
It’s been really nice both driving on the ice-free roads and walking on the ice-free sidewalks, as in the course of my daily life I tend to fall down more than anyone I know, other than the Marx Brothers.
Anyway, when they were hyping the “storm of the season” a few days ago, I pooh-poohed it as the delusional ravings of snow-starved skiiers. And the original timeframe for the storm (Wednesday afternoon into evening) came and went with barely an inch on the ground.
So yesterday morning, I paid no mind to the few flakes of snow in the air. I absentmindedly used my sleeve to brush the accumulated dusting off the car, bundled Lorelei and her go-cup of Cheerios into my trusty Subaru Impreza – a car that easily plows through all but the most serious storms – and we set off on the short trip to daycare.
Where we discovered an immaculately plowed, completely empty parking lot.
Have you ever tried to explain the concept of a snow day to an almost-2-year-old? It’s a little tricky. We did a 3-point-turn and started home, and I could sense confusion turning to anguish in the backseat.
“Daycare!” Lorelei wailed. “Ella-dit!” (Elliott is Lorelei’s very favorite partner in crime during the week; I’m sure Lorelei was convinced that Elliott was happily ensconced in the church basement with the other friends and myriad toys – why on earth were we turning back?)
We got home, and I turned on the local news to see if daycare was closed for the whole day, or if it was just a delayed opening. Turns out the storm was indeed bearing down precisely as hard as predicted – just a little late. The scrolling ticker at the bottom of the screen indicated that pretty much the entire state was closed for the day.
Note to self: Assume nothing from October through April when it comes to snow in New Hampshire.