I am one of the many who laments that snow days are now Zoom days.
Snow storms can slow time. Unlike rain, snow falls at a leisurely pace. Rain is in a hurry, rain drops have places to go, crops to water, reservoirs to fill. Snow flakes meander on their way down, like they’re working the room before landing on the sidewalk. Water pours and rushes, snow drifts and blankets. Rain announces itself with pelting against windows and roofs. It’s here and gone, clouds to streets to sewers to the sea. Snow coats and lingers, overstays its welcome. Snow isn't just silent, it absorbs sound. During snow storms, cities take on the acoustics of a podcasting studio. If there is enough snow, everything stops. Real life is suspended while we have snowball fights, build snowmen, sled, and otherwise romp before hiding out inside with warm drinks, snacks, and movies.
Of course the world doesn’t really stop just because we happen to be buried in what amounts to very cold water. People are working, and our idyllic visions ignore the sometimes brutal consequences of snow for those not as lucky as we are. Classes continue online and deadlines remain deadlines, even during snow storms. And this most recent storm brought more sleet than soft powder. Nevertheless, soon the streets will be plowed and the snow will melt. We will be at 805 21st St before long. In the meantime, before getting (back) on Zoom and returning to the Sisyphean task of catching up on email, I am going to walk in a city temporarily transformed and enjoy the gap in time that snowstorms create. I encourage you to do the same.