I am a broken record, I know, but I will remind you that school has been canceled a lot this year. On a few of these days, if not most, the sturdy New Englander in me has scoffed at the decision to shutter the halls of higher learning for what seemed like little more than flurries.
Yet even I can admit that not all snow days are created equal.
In spite of a mild-seeming start to the day, yesterday afternoon things got legitimate. Snow fell for hours and piled up in heaps. There were moments that were nearly blizzard-like.
And yet I had a package to send. And the iron will to get the job done. Slipping on my Carhart jacket, I marched to the Post Office, which remained open in spite of the snowy peril.
My business complete, I surveyed the empty town from the Post Office steps. Other than the fresh car tracks, the recently cleared steps, and the lack of zombies, I felt like I was on the set of The Walking Dead.
The town had a barren, post-apocalyptic feel.
I had no one but the fountain statue for company.
I stood at the intersection of High Street…
And cross street. I waited for a duel to materialize. But even the cowboys were staying inside.
Around 5:00, we got bold (or foolish, take your pick), unearthed the car, and drove up to the College for sledding. August fell asleep on the three-minute drive. The rest of us had a very nice time.
Now it is tomorrow. The snow has stopped falling but still lines every branch and twig. I am happy to be warm inside.
The sun will work its magic in the days ahead. This thing called spring is more than just a fantasy.
Or so I will keep saying to myself, until my words come true.