The S Word

If the word snow so much as scrolls across any teleprompter in any news station in Georgia, all of the state's residents spring into action. Grocery store shelves are emptied of their bread and milk, schools shut down, businesses close early or delay their openings, cars are securely stowed in garages, and everyone gathers around their fireplaces to wait, all the while casting furtive glances outside the window.

When the snow actually begins to fall, it is the newscasters who spring into action. All regularly scheduled programming is pre-empted by the breaking news of snow flurries. Reporters are sent to all locations from which salt trucks are dispatched so they can report as each truck rolls off the premises. A lucky few reporters take off for the location where snow has been reported. Anyone who has seen a flake is interviewed. Any child who has the day off school and is excited about the snow is interviewed. Anyone who may experience any type of inconvenience due to the snow is interviewed.

Once it has been snowing for any length of time, all reporters flock toward the area where the most snow has accumulated. They nudge the tiny piles of snow with the toes of their shoes or bend down to scoop what little may be in among the blades of grass upon which they stand. And they interview anyone who has watched the snow accumulate. And any child who is enjoying the day off school by sledding down a hill of grass with a little snow mixed in. And anyone who may be inconvenienced in any way by the slight accumulation of the white stuff.

Yes, snow is indeed a rarity in these parts. And, yes, we Georgians do overreact juuust a little bit.

Our snow began to fall around 1:00 last Thursday afternoon. The snowfall began with flurries, an event which prompted Audrey to ask, "What is that STUFF falling down from the sky?" We were in the middle of a chapter of The Bronze Bow when it began; obviously it was difficult to keep the children's attention on a hot, dry, arid day in Galilee when there was snow falling outside. I have to admit, I was anxious to get my nose out of the book as well so I could watch the snow fall.

The chapter finally ended, and the kids quickly bundled up and headed outside where the flurries were quickly changing over to full snowflakes. They danced and played in it.






And it didn't take long in the frigid temps to begin to accumulate. The fact that, by Canadian standards, the accumulation was nothing to brag about did not stop the kids from sweeping the driveway to gather enough snow for a couple of pitiful little snowballs to chuck at each other.

With temps in the teens, once it began to get dark, I did force them against their wills to come in.


I promised them that there would be more in the morning as the forecast called for 1-2 inches in our area. After 30+ years of living, you would think I would know better than to trust a forecast because the next morning, I awoke to find Michael sitting in the dining room staring forlornly out the window.

With great anticipation, he had arisen early hoping to be greeted by a veritable winter wonderland only to find little had changed from the night before. "There's not even enough to build a snowman," he told me glumly. What is a parent to say? If he says, "There's not even enough Cheerios in here to fill up my belly", why, I can just give him more Cheerios, but this? Unfortunately, although I have a direct line to the SnowMaker, this I can't control.

"Cheer up," I offered. It's still early winter. I'm sure we'll get another day or two of snow this year.

For more Winter photos, visit I Should Be Folding Laundry.