Let It Snow

We are waiting for it to snow today. Weather forecasts raised the alarm nearly a week ago that we should be expecting five to eight inches of snow. Five to eight inches is not an impossible amount for Columbus: the winters routinely include several inches of the fluffy white stuff, so there is infrastructure in place to deal with it. But Columbus is not subject to lake effect snow, like Buffalo, Cleveland, or Chicago is, so five to eight inches is not an insignificant amount of powder for Columbus either.

I went shopping on Wednesday this week in order to avoid the inevitable day before a snow storm shopping scene on Friday. Friday evening would certainly prove to be “french toast time” at any grocery store in Columbus. This expression was taught to me after I moved to New Jersey, the first place I ever lived where winter was likely to bring snowfall. French toast time because people buy up all the milk, eggs, and bread at the store before a storm. Long before I was ever vegan, this seemed like a strange list of essentials to me. At the house I grew up in, this  would have likely comprised of wine, steak, and ice cream. Or maybe tequila, shrimp, and cheese. But milk and eggs would not have made top billing.

We are not really waiting for it to snow today, but have resigned ourselves to the fact it will probably snow a decent amount, and thus we should stay inside. Basil and I like low key weekends anyway, but ever since my accident on the black ice last winter, I am especially paranoid about going anywhere when the temperature gets below 35 degrees. Basil, having grown up in Northeast Ohio, was naturally cautious about driving anywhere in crummy weather to begin with.

If we had really been waiting for the snow, so far we would have been disappointed: after a week of wintery hysteria building up across town, it has been warmer today than expected. All it has done is rain. But, updated weather forecasts continue to caution us: it could turn at any minute. Stay wary! Even though we are still not planning on going anywhere, I keep looking out the window every hour anyway, wondering what will happen next, like I am watching a cosmically slow mystery show, waiting for whoeverdunit to show themselves.

I never waited for weather in the desert. There was no anticipation, no regular reference of the weather channels. The weather was what was happening when you went outside. Cold, medium, or hot, it was simply present and inescapable. I never had the urge to bargain with it, like I do here. Since moving east I have begged many times, “If we can just get through one winter without much snow.” I was never foolish enough to ask for a summer out west with less sun.

But because weather is so much more variable in Ohio, it seems more mystical to me here than it did back in Arizona or California. Looking out the window over and over again, searching through the grey skies, I note once again life proves there are no sure bets.