"Under fifteen feet of pure white snow"
Jan. 23rd, 2005 03:01 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kenjariThere is a lot of snow here in Boston. A lot. Just looking out our windows, we can see snow in drifts a few feet high. And we've had to clear drifts of more than a foot off of a couple of our windowsills so that we could see out.
I'm not relishing trying to get to work tomorrow, but for now, it's not bad at all. All the snow is actually quite pretty. Our apartment is toasty warm and I've got plenty of tea and hot chocolate. And I have Other Kenjari's wonderful company. We don't have to go anywhere and we don't have a car to shovel out. Allston is peacefully quiet. After I finished practicing piano, I could hear some of the other musicians who live in the building practicing, too. I've lived in New England all my life, so I guess I'm kind of comfortable with the blizzard.
I remember the blizzard of '78, and it is the source of my favorite winter memory. I was about three or four. We didn't live near any good sledding hills, but once the snow stopped and things got shoveled out somewhat, my Dad bundled my sister and I up and put us on a sled - one of those old-fashioned wooden sleds with metal runners. Dad attached a lead rope to it. He then ran (literally ran) around the neighborhood dragging the sled. It was great. The snow was piled up so high on either side of the sidewalks that it was like sledding through a snow tunnel. My sister and I loved it.
I'm not relishing trying to get to work tomorrow, but for now, it's not bad at all. All the snow is actually quite pretty. Our apartment is toasty warm and I've got plenty of tea and hot chocolate. And I have Other Kenjari's wonderful company. We don't have to go anywhere and we don't have a car to shovel out. Allston is peacefully quiet. After I finished practicing piano, I could hear some of the other musicians who live in the building practicing, too. I've lived in New England all my life, so I guess I'm kind of comfortable with the blizzard.
I remember the blizzard of '78, and it is the source of my favorite winter memory. I was about three or four. We didn't live near any good sledding hills, but once the snow stopped and things got shoveled out somewhat, my Dad bundled my sister and I up and put us on a sled - one of those old-fashioned wooden sleds with metal runners. Dad attached a lead rope to it. He then ran (literally ran) around the neighborhood dragging the sled. It was great. The snow was piled up so high on either side of the sidewalks that it was like sledding through a snow tunnel. My sister and I loved it.
