My mother, my husband and probably also my boss will most certainly turn up their noses at the pronouncement I’m about to make — but here goes: I’m ready for some snow!
And if predictions hold true, there’s a good chance we’ll get it.
As of this writing, forecasters are still pretty noncommittal, saying only that it’s “likely” we’ll get snow. At this point, estimates are somewhere around 6-ish inches.
Wonderful! I’ll take it!
I admit, I enjoy a few good douses of snow per winter. After that, I’m satisfied, and it can go away.
Let’s face it: It’s been truly nonexistent so far this season. Think about it — we are well past the holiday season and quickly approaching blue Monday. The days already are getting longer. And even MLB pitchers and catchers report in less than a month (sans any work stoppages, that is). All this, and we’ve yet to have any appreciable amount of the white stuff. Sadly, even Christmas wasn’t white.
Granted, I’m not praying for the kind of snow I used to get when I lived briefly in “the snow belt.”
I’d dial up my then-fiance, who lived in the Mahoning Valley, to relay fun-filled anecdotes about scraping more than a foot of snow off my 1989 red Honda Accord hatchback and using the car to plow through high snow that remained when my landlord delayed clearing my townhouse parking lot. I had bought the used car simply to get me from Point A to Point B, but believe me when I say that little car ran like a tank through high snow.
Here in the Valley, my boyfriend would peer out his window to see a few flakes wafting downward and think I was making up stories.
That was fun for very brief stint in my life, but it didn’t take long to grow old.
Back in my hometown in the Laurel highlands of Western Pennsylvania, we typically received less snow than the snow belt, but still more that we get here in the Valley.
I recall riding the school bus home from Forest Hills High School in January. As we rumbled down our road, I saw green grass peeping through the snow patches in the front yards of many of my friends’ houses. But when the bus screeched to a halt at the top of the hill where my parents still live, the snow always seemed to remain the longest. Inexplicably, it often took weeks longer than my friends’ yards for the snow to melt at our house.
And of course, growing up in the mountains of Pennsylvania, I’d have been remiss if I didn’t spend quite a few blustery evenings skiing under the floodlights at Western Pennsylvania ski resorts.
I suppose spending so much time in my younger days surrounded by massive snow mounds all winter long has me reminiscing.
Some three hours from here, in Johnstown, Pa., the odds are much greater that Mom and Dad will have their fair share of the white stuff tonight. According to AccuWeather, they’re looking at 8 to 12 inches by nightfall on Monday. We won’t get nearly as much.
But at the end of the day, I guess wishing for snow is easy for me to say. I don’t have to venture out in the storm to go to work tonight. Nor will I be heading east toward Seven Springs Mountain Resort this evening. (Frankly, I haven’t done that in decades.)
No, tonight, after all the groceries are put away and the dinner dishes are cleaned up, I’ll simply be tucked away under my black-and-gold blanket, Terrible Towel by my side, for what hopefully will be a stress-free couple hours.
With any luck, the only stress that I might have as I watch the game from my comfortable couch will be thinking about my morning commute amid slushy conditions — and not from the game at hand.
Tonight, I’ll be rooting for both the Steelers and the snow.