Saturday was a snow day in these parts. The storm was a little late in coming — we had a Valentine’s lunch because the forecasters said it would be snowing too much at dinnertime, only to find the forecast had shifted to predict snowfall starting at 9 p.m.
But as I type these words Saturday morning, yep, it’s a snow day. In fact, the plow just rumbled by, trying to keep the road a little more passable. They even just posted a new advisory for our specific county to expect 3 more inches before we’re done.
This past week or so, it finally looks like winter, nearly two months after the official first day. The nice photo of the cardinal that accompanies this post might have been taken in November, but it actually was Jan. 28. The lack of snow around here was worrisome to farmers and snowmobilers and tourism venues alike.
Everyone’s happy now, except for those folks who detest snow — and if you detest snow, why would you be living in a place where it might snow anytime from early October through Memorial Day? (Thankfully, those dates are the extremes, of course.) This is “Frozen Tundra” territory, after all.
While I watch the flakes fall, I plan to catch up on the day job work I should have done Wednesday, try my hand at fixing the malfunctioning washer, practice my guitar for Sunday morning worship, and steel myself for manning the snowblower when it all subsides. (Among my blessings is the fact that I’ve owned a snowblower so the last time I had to shovel a driveway was almost 30 years ago. Not sure I could manage that anymore.)
Here I am chatting about the weather when I should be getting down to those tasks.
Still, when the skies let loose with so much snow that we are forced to change our plans and hunker down until it blows over, it’s useful to take a moment to remind ourselves to be humble.
These are the times when the heavens declare the glory of God and the skies proclaim the work of His hands. Whether it’s in the form of a brilliant red bird or a chilly white blanket, it’s always a wonder to behold.
