Those of us living in and around New England, we have had many snowstorms recently, and we weren’t too happy about it. Slick roads, downed power lines, fear of power cuts, actual power cuts, and the sudden disappearance of water, bread, candles, batteries, flashlights and canned food from store shelves. Sheer madness, some call it. Some say it’s preparedness. I just wonder what happened to all the flashlights that were bought during the last storm. Does each storm warrant its own special flashlight, like it has its own special name?
Speaking of which, last week’s storm was particularly cool in the name department. Who doesn’t like the name Nemo? And true to its name, it was an amiable snowstorm, the kind which makes you want to build a snowman, start a snow fight or drag out that dusty old sled. Fluffy, white snow on the day itself. Glorious blue skies and bright sunshine the day after. Oh, so perfect.
Social media was jammed with artistic shots, you know the kind which requires time, patience, and a good eye. That sort of thing. And then there were the red-cheeked, bundled-up babies and sweater clad pets. I have a few photos from the cute category – a sixteen-month old trying to make sense of all the white around him.
Couple of days after, said sixteen-month old had enough of the still mounds of shimmery snow. Enough of that already, he seemed to say and bent over a thin stream of water that was making its way to the gutter. The snow was melting, following the gentle slope of the land, trickling down steadily. There was a faint gurgle in the background and a small puddle had formed nearby, which could only mean two things to a toddler. Jumping and splashing. Yay!
Yes, Nemo was fun. There was scooping, splashing, sliding, and sipping of hot toddies involved. And if it wasn’t for all the shoveling…that and the staggering cost of snow removal borne by the impacted towns, I wouldn’t mind another round.