A Nibble of Winter

Our farm got a teensy-tinsey taste of snow yesterday evening--not enough to last through 11:00 this morning, but enough to excite our family. My buddies in Ohio would have gotten a hardy laugh out of seeing us run outside at dusk to feel it coming down. It could barely be called a smattering. But it was lovely. And it was the first we've had since we left the midwest last spring. The girls "skated" back and forth across our back deck until well after dark, and then the three of us took a chilly stroll up the lane, singing "Winter Wonderland" and "Jingle Bells" all the way. I know: we must have looked (and sounded!) ridiculous. But given how little snow it seems we're going to see at our new home in North Carolina's Piedmont region, we figure we'd better do our best to enjoy every bit we do get.

Folks who have lived in this area a long time report that they used to get several "good snows" a year. It is sad to think such winters may be gone from here forever. I hope they aren't. Unfortunately, global warming trends don't inspire a lot of optimism on that front.

Of course, it is not as though I am pining away for the winters we used to have in Ohio: weeks and weeks of not seeing bare ground or being able to walk down a sidewalk without sliding on patches of ice. In February 2010, our town (near Columbus) saw 29 1/2 inches of snow, and once it fell, it stayed . . . and stayed . . . and stayed. I literally jumped a little the first time I saw the grass in our yard that March. "Oh! I think I remember that stuff!" So I confess it has been on more than a few of my early-morning treks to and from the barn this winter that I have thought to myself, "Goodness, I'm glad I don't have to wade through those 29 1/2 inches this morning."

And yet it doesn't seem right to go through a whole winter with practically no snow at all. Especially when it seems we humans have probably contributed to its absence. All the more inspiration to get out there planting, protecting, conserving, and otherwise taking better care of our earth. Maybe, just maybe, we have a chance to ensure that generations from now, the children of North Carolina's Piedmont will still know where the best sledding hills are; will still be able to hope for an occasional "snow day"; and will still have a chance to experience the cozy magic of their world being transformed by a white winter blanket.