Snow

On the evening of January 21, hours after the sunset, snow began to fall across central North Carolina. Often winter storms bring sleet, freezing rain or a wintry mix. But here it was, a rare treat. Actual snow falling gently, and then in heavier bands, until a shroud of white mocked the suburban monotony below.

The brightness of the street light was, for once, welcome, as it illuminated thick flakes, gravity seducing them down from the sky. Observing from windows quickly became unsatisfying. I put a rain cover on my camera and another one on myself, and headed out the front door.

Black mailboxes were topped with junior, contrasted versions of themselves, with small, snowy tentacles seeking to succumb further to gravity’s pull. Tree branches and bushes were likewise adorned with fluffy embellishments.

Wild birds were surely taking cover in nests, houses, and tree trunks, but a sculpted representative donned a new hat, trying on a look atypical to its normally spring-like self.

The next day’s sunlight revealed the full effects of the overnight storm: a few inches of snow, absorbing much of the noise that comes along with living in a suburb, right near an international airport. The dampening of sound was a welcome reprieve.

Having recently re-acquired a four wheel drive vehicle, my husband and I drove (slowly) to a nearby state park. The sandy beach of a manmade reservoir was already shedding its unwanted winter coat. Small waves lapped up gently, attempting to glimpse the receding layer of frost.

Snow crawled through the crevices of the rough brown bark on the trunks of tall pine trees that line the shore.

While evergreens sported snow as accessories, deciduous trees grabbed hold of the opportunity to cloak a new garment while waiting for their spring wardrobe to arrive. A few were still holding onto last season’s fashions. All were welcome to dwell and bedeck as they please.

But true to the nature of winter weather in less accommodating climates, the moment of whimsy was fleeting. Signs of melting were abundant. Between two banks of snow, a frozen stream layer felt the scurry of water charting courses underneath. And drips of melted snow carved holes as they dropped to the frosted floor below.

After sunset, temperatures would again drop below freezing. Water would freeze once again. Four wheel drive is not so audacious on ice. It was time to say goodbye to snow’s neat visit and return to the other coziness of a warm house.