Respect The Snow Day

Snow in the South is wonderful. It has a kind of magic and mystery that it has nowhere else. And the reason for this is that it comes to people in the South not as the grim, unyielding tenant of Winter’s keep, but as a strange and wild visitor from the secret North.

Thomas Wolfe

Over the years we’ve heard of people who don’t like snow and don’t care about snow days, but we cannot be friends with them. It’s one thing to fuss about the North Carolina heat and humidity in August, and, yes, hurricanes are not fun, and we all know The Ice Storm is the nasty black sheep cousin of The Snow Day, but don’t blaspheme The Southern Snow Day. That is a line that is not to be crossed. The Snow Day is sacred around here.

For those of you who think we want like 10 feet of snow, that’s not what we’re talking about. We are talking about the kind of snow that is predicted, the kind of snow we can all get hyped up about, look forward to, talk about for days, and then when the first flakes fall, shut everything down and lean into the sacredness. The snow that forces us to dust off all our snow gear that has been packed away for quite a while. We’re talking about the kind of snow that melts the next day and allows us to still get out of houses and neighborhoods. The kind of snow that quietly blankets the landscapes and allows us to feel like we’re in a dreamy snow globe, if only for a little while. 

When something only happens once or twice a year or once every few years, you honor it. Seriously, Santa comes more often than snow in some winters. So, you stop what you are doing. You make that grocery list that goes way beyond the bread and milk. You have to plan a breakfast feast (pork tenderloin biscuit anyone?), grilled cheese and tomato soup for lunch, and a big pot of chili, soup, or stew for dinner. And most importantly, you have to plan snacks appropriately because kids who sled burn about 50,000 calories before lunch and eat their way through a snow day. And the adults do too. We go from coffee to water to wine and won’t apologize. Toasting The Snow Day is nothing to be ashamed of. And for the love of everything that is good and holy, make sure you have hot chocolate AND the marshmallows to go in it.

When you don’t know how long something will last, you have to take advantage quickly. Sledding, sitting by the fire, snowman building, and a movie in between is important. It’s actually required. If you are lucky enough to get snowed in, you can lose yourself in an entire novel before the world starts functioning again. You gather with neighbors, share snow gear in case someone outgrew theirs, and teach the littles how The Snow Day is done. Because they could be in full-blown puberty the next time a snow day arrives.

The love for a snow day evolves as the years go by. As adults, parents, and as educators, the Snow Day is a gift.

This is not to be taken lightly.

The Snow Day gives us permission. Permission to stop, both physically and mentally. It also gives us an opportunity. The opportunity to reboot, slow things down, and for one (or more if we are lucky) beautiful day, we won’t get behind. We lean in, and are present without penalty. The Snow Day gives us time. Time to have that lazy breakfast, an extra cup of coffee, and time to make memories. 

The Snow Day is not just a day. It’s no school. It’s less work. It’s card games and laughter and wet gloves, and pink faces and stories by the fire. It’s way more than the snow. It’s all the stuff.  And sometimes if you blink, it’s gone.  

So if you don’t have the proper respect for The Snow Day around here, keep it to yourself. The rest of us could use one.