Snow Days

I'm trying hard to recall the sweaty days of summer. Remember, waking up to the drone of the air conditioner? Remember, avoiding the Easy Bake attic at all costs? Remember, silently blessing the neighbors for their swimming pool and their open-door policy? I banked up all of those memories to get me through the winter and up until now they've been pretty effective. Until Tuesday, when the snow from the barn roof slid off in one slushy sheet, missing my head by a few inches.

Everyone's telling us this is a very mild winter, for which I am grateful. Still, it's cold. Californians are very familiar with snow of course; it snows a lot in the Sierras. Tahoe and Big Bear have some of the greatest skiing in the country. But the vast majority of us don't live with it; we just visit it. Big difference.

The snow didn't last very long. A nice long rainshower melted it into chains of street puddles and a quagmire in the backyard. If we're going to put up with snow at least let's get a serious storm that puts a few inches down. Give us a Snow Day, which for some reason my daughters are obsessed with. Let us walk outside with our snow clothes and our plastic saucers, so we can sled down the slopes at the cemetery across the street.

Then it can be spring.