I wonder if I’m the only one watching the torrential snowstorm in New York City, the one where all transportation has ceased, cars are 90% buried and snowflake-churning wind is accosting overly-bundled walkers, and thinking “I’m jealous.”
Perhaps I have this feeling because as I sat around the Christmas tree with my family and unwrapped presents two days ago, the only weather gracing the landscape out the window were raindrops.
Raindrops in spring, yes. Raindrops on roses, yes. Raindrops on Christmas morning, no.
Despite having spent the last 13 years in Seattle Christmases, my first 13 were spent in mostly pristine white on the East Coast. And once you’ve had it, it’s hard for anything else to satisfy.
I’ll admit, it’s nice being able to head home after Christmas dinner and not have to attach tire chains. But it’s even nicer getting snowed in and not being able to go home. In my opinion, anyway.
Maybe this is all the more irritating because our Christmas two years ago was a virtual snow heaven. Giant white cottonballs fell from the sky all day that Christmas, so much so that our power went out. Being the careful Northwesterners that my parents are, they had a generator for backup. However, this generator only kept certain things running, like heat, and a few appliances. The one appliance not included? The oven.
It didn’t take long for us to realize that no oven meant no Christmas prime rib. We called our neighbors who had invested in the Generator 10X 3000 (I’m inventing this name, but it may as well have been), which had enough power to light the Space Needle. They generously decided they could spare some wattage to cook us a Christmas meal.
That meal proved so enjoyable, a delight born of a near-disaster, that we have continued the tradition with them every year since (minus the power-outage; no need to reenact exact details).
Thanks to La Nina, this year is of a decidedly different climate. I don’t think it’s dropped below 45 degrees in weeks.
Which is why it didn’t take long for us to say “yes” when our dear friend, Laura, and her parents invited us to their condo in Whistler for New Year’s. Guaranteed snowflakes that fall on my nose and eyelashes!
It’s possible that no amount of snow this year could compare with our Olympic trip to Whistler last year, but who cares? In fact, this year will be so much sweeter in different ways because we won’t be racing around to events and trying to catch medal ceremonies. This year we can just walk through the Village, sip hot cocoa in woodsy lodges, and soak in the hottub after a day on the slopes.
In other words, enjoy walking in a winter wonderland.