Snow!

Yesterday we saw a light smattering of snow, which disappeared as quickly as it came. But today, the snow is real, prominent, beautiful. I was supposed to leave the house at 9 this morning to go to a watercolors class, but the streets were getting dicey by then and the class was cancelled. Still, I was up much earlier than I usually am lately (7:30), so I was able to watch the world go from gray and damp to white and fresh.

Sandy's on the left. She's with her dad,
her older sister, Viv, and their brother, Pete.

Sandy loved snow. Aside from a couple of childhood years in Alaska, she'd spent her entire life in Western Washington, where snow is rare and can seem practically miraculous. She had so few memories of Alaska that the time she spent there seemed magical, too.

I like snow, as well, but I grew up with enough of it in Missouri that it took me several years in Seattle to gain the same appreciation others here have. Now I thrill along with everyone else.

Seattle changes when the snows come. If the snow is heavy enough, Seattle closes. It's a city of steep hills and rain; we've struggled to build a fleet of snow plows and to come up with policies and practices that will keep the roads passable in the snow, but somehow, it never really happens. Unless you provide emergency services or need them, it's best just to tuck in and get cozy.

As a self-employed person, I don't get to take snow days anymore. The hallway to my office has so far never been icy, and we almost never lose electrical power for more than 20 minutes. But I find it hard to take work seriously when I know everyone else is playing. Sandy would always pull me away from my desk (pretty easily) and usher me into the back yard or out onto the sidewalks of our quieter-than-usual neighborhood. Sometimes we used snow as an excuse to go out to brunch at a nearby restaurant. Or we'd walk to Volunteer Park and enjoy the warmth of the conservatory while we could see the snow-covered park outside.

The bamboo bends under the weight of snow. The first time it happened,
we fretted and fussed, trying to shake the snow off it. And then we learned
that as the snow melts, the bamboo bounces back on its own.
It is, after all, known for its resilience. This picture was taken in 2007;
the birches and bamboo have both grown, but the effect is basically the same.

Today the snow has come quickly, with many stretches of big, fluffy flakes. The birches are stunning; the bamboo has bent in submission to the weight it bears; it's impossible to tell where the paths and patio end and the garden beds begin.

Soon, I'll go for a little walk through the neighborhood. I'm hoping Sandy comes with me. I know she'd enjoy it.