I feel a little bit like a school girl who woke up to a snow day. Remember how that felt, like exhaling after holding your breath as long as you could. I remember those dark winter mornings on Lake Michigan when I would wake up in the room I shared with my sister Melanie, and I would listen to the radio in the kitchen. The volume was turned up just loud enough that I could hear the list of school cancellations from my twin bed...please say Chesterton, please say Chesterton, please say Chesterton.
A snow day meant I could sleep in. It meant I could watch old movies on WGN and play the piano and sit on the floor with the coloring books and crayons, and I could make paper dolls cut from magazines. I could play outside with the neighborhood kids and make snowmen and build snow forts and throw snow balls—and we got plenty of snow in Indiana.
Today, my English class has been canceled, and the interview at a make-shift homeless shelter has been bumped to tomorrow afternoon. So, here I am with a day ahead of me that can be whatever I make of it. I won't be coloring with crayons, but I might be painting a little. And I'll play the piano and the horn, read a little, plan dinner, do some research for next Monday's opinion thing and make up for lost time on some blogs. I've been remiss in blogville lately.
We're expecting another six inches of snow on top of the 12 we've already got, which is not nearly as much as the snowfall on the east coast or in eastern Pennsylvania where they're expecting another 18 inches by tomorrow morning. But it's all relative, right?
Here is the scene from my driveway Saturday morning after the last storm when the sun came out and the sky turned a bright blue. There was/is so much snow in the trees that the sun filtering through the branches created some interesting shadows.