There are no stars to be seen, and the air has that ‘snow’ feeling. You know, that feeling in the air that fills your lungs with COLD when you breathe?
Aussie Mama’s comment that being snowed in might be romantic, has made me lean back in my chair and do a fadeout, like movies do when they have flashbacks.
I’m flashing back to years ago when Hub and I were first married.
It was January. There had been blizzards by the dozens in the few weeks before our wedding date. Snow was piled high everywhere; the highways all looked like tunnels through high snowy walls. Tall trees were covered. Schools had been closed for weeks. Few businesses were open.
And we were getting married.
The church was buried in snow; it isn’t even recognizable in the pictures. Hardly anyone could get there.
No vehicle except a really good four-wheel-drive could get out of the driveways, let alone make it down a street.
We got married anyway, in a nearly deserted church that not even the chandeliers could completely lighten up, since the windows were buried in snow.
I wore my sister’s wedding dress. Hub wore a rented tux that was too short; it was the best the store could do for him. He’s nearly seven feet tall, after all.
After the wedding, everybody ran like mad to their cars so they could make it home before the next blizzard hit.
The little suitcase I’d packed wasn’t going to be enough. We had to change our plans a little.
I went home with my parents, to gather more stuff for a longer stay.
Hub went home with his parents, to gather his stuff and to borrow his father’s pickup truck. No car could make it to our little house out in the country.
In about an hour, he pulled up as close to the porch as he could; the snowplows had left huge icy piles alongside all the streets. I ran out, threw my suitcase in the back of the truck, and off we drove to the only restaurant that was open in the entire town. We told them we’d just gotten married and they put a rose in a vase on our table. We had kinda hoped for some free stuff, but the rose was pretty.
Then we got back in the truck and drove home. It was hard going, because the storms had started up again and the roads were already nearly impassable. We made it to our little house and set up housekeeping. We might have done some other stuff too; I don’t remember. It was a long time ago.
Seriously, those iced-over windows thawed right out.
It was several days before we could get out of the driveway. When we finally made it, we drove to my mom’s house to gather up all our wedding gifts.
Then we drove back home, only to be snowed in some more with still more blizzards. And more. And more. The blizzards kept us snowed in for almost a month. It was great.
I had taken three days off work for my wedding and a weekend honeymoon. I ended up with two weeks before, and nearly a month after, with PAY.
We live next door to that little house now.
Whenever it’s snowing, I think of those days. I always feel the most at home, when everything is covered with snow. Because, you see, that’s how it was when I first came home with Hub.
So let it snow, if it wants to. We’re ready.
We do have our own truck now. And I can still heave my huge self up into the passenger’s seat, in spite of my knees.
I love to feed the birds, in the snow.
The only real fear I have, when things are snowy and icy, is losing my balance. It’s not good in the best of circumstances, and when I slip, my entire self is thrown off-balance. Fortunately, when I fall in the snow, it’s a soft landing.
Little cat-prints in the snow. . . . is anything more delicate and beautiful?
The little cat-prints are usually in the middle of a lot of dainty little bird-prints, but I try not to think of the consequences of that.
It will probably not even snow tonight. But I hope it does. I’m ready for some nostalgia.
And maybe some window-steaming.