Saturday, January 22, 2005


The snow has been coming down all morning, adding to the snow we have had all month. It's just piling up out there. According to the weather, it's supposed to keep on snowing into tomorrow. It's ten degrees out there right now, that means black ice.

I haven't been to bed yet and it's close to noon. The Bugg had to go into work early this morning so I stayed up all night and kept an eye on the weather, then when she left I found that I couldn't, wouldn't rest easy until she was home again. She'll be home soon, God willing, and I will take a nap.

Being a Michigander, I normally don't worry so much during a snowfall. I never did. That is, I never did until The Bugg got in a wreck a few winters ago. She lost control on some black ice on the freeway and the driver's side of the cab was ripped open; she found her spectacles lying on the median fifty feet from the truck. I've carried more gray hairs in my wig since that day and now I'm a regular old granny every time she has to go out in the snow; my knees get weak thinking about it.

I don't think I've ever driven in a snow that worried me. I guess it's just my not being there when she goes out alone that bothers me.

I know that God is watching over her. I also know that it isn't right for me to worry. I try not to, but I do. Sometimes. I guess it's a weakness. I guess it's every man's weakness; his family.

And don't get me wrong, I love the snow. I love the snow as only a northerner can love snow. It's the senile uncle who comes to see you a few times a year. He's sometimes a bother but he is familiar and he completes your life experience. I sometimes feel sorry for those in other parts of the nation who don't have the opportunity to know snow the way we northerners know it.

What is more soothing than to walk the forest during a snowfall, especially after dark? Ever notice how warm it can seem during a snowfall? And the really isn't quite quiet. Nothing stirs except the rustling of the tree branches. It gets so quiet that you can hear every flake impact the ground. Once you locate that sound, it becomes all encompassing. You become conscious of nothing else.

Sometimes, while out shoveling snow, I just stand there and listen to it. Those sounds make Winter in Michigan special. In the Summer, it's the ciccadas, crickets and frogs. In the Autumn, it's the chill breeze carrying the scent of the harvest through the air and causing the red, orange and yellow leaves to skitter across the ground like crabs. But in winter....winter it's the sound of zillions of little flakes, no two alike, collecting on the hard, frozen ground; waiting for children to play in it.....and adults to drive in it.