Results For "Day: March 2, 2009"

Who knew? The forecast was there, but who trusts forecasters when they say Upstate South Carolina is to get snow? It’s like hearing a forecast of rain in Death Valley: seems intriguing, but one assumes the meteorologist is drunk.

It’s every child’s fantasy. Around Christmas, I show kids pictures from Poland, pictures of kids walking to school with two feet of snow blanketing all but the walk way and kids say, “Mr. S, if it snowed like that, we’d be out of school for a week!” One gets more excited: “For a month!”

Still, it doesn’t take much to get officials to call off school here. Indeed, two years ago, officials canceled school on the forecast of a huge storm — “due to dump tons of snow” — only to awaken to a light drizzle that never intensified.

By mid-afternoon, it begins; soon there is noticeable accumulation on the deck.

Within an hour, it’s snowing heavily — the kind of snow we haven’t seen in over a year. Winters in Polska brought virtually innumerable snowfalls like this. Here, we’re discovering, it an once-a-year there.

With this kind of snow, living in the south, there’s only one thing a Polish girl can do.

Sit down with a cup of tea and sliwowica (plum brandy that is approximately 140 proof — a shot of it in hot tea fills the whole house with the fragrance of plums),

with Bida on her lap, watching the snow.

So rare. We miss the snow of Poland — a real winter — but the infrequency transforms a sometimes-burden into a jewel.

The snow fall turns to ice, transfiguring limbs to crystal.

We sit and look out our new picture window. “It’s the most beautiful picture we’ll ever see out this window,” K says.

Finally, at half past six, everyone gets their wish: Greenville County Schools will be closed tomorrow. I’m relieved and disappointed: we had a snow-make-up day coming in three weeks. That’s gone now. It’s about six weeks until our next break. Not only that, but it puts me two full weeks behind schedule with my English I Honors class: Monday we’re supposed to be finishing Antigone. We’ll be starting it, in earnest, Tuesday.

But still, who can complain?

With all the heavy, wet snow in the trees, I become worried about the damage so much weight can do to trees not accustomed to a winter workout. Since no tree shakers are available, I go out and do the job myself. I knock the ice from some of the trees immediately next to the house, but the big trees — the ones that can really do the damage, sit in the back yard, out of reach.

As I stand there, I hear limbs cracking, falling, and it takes me just a moment to realize that it’s not whole trees falling (it’s not that loud). For a moment, though, I’m worried. “Surely our insurance would cover it,” I mumble, trudging back into the house.

“Tomorrow,” I say before bed, “for a few minutes (for she’s sick), we’ll introduce the Girl to snow.”