Pushed the snooze button for exactly one hour this morning, then rolled out of bed knowing that I needed to get to work about fifteen minutes earlier than usual. I was thinking about how to do this, and stumbling down the stairs to make a pot of coffee. (I've only been drinking coffee in the mornings when I absolutely need it, been changing it up with various teas.) On my way down the stairs, I noticed the snow through window and practically sprinted to my computer. On the OSD website, there was a beautiful rectangular sun announcing boldy that SCHOOL IS CLOSED. I couldn't help myself. I literally jumped out of my chair and yelled for joy. Some optimists had predicted this yesterday, but I remained unopen to disappointment when I read the skeptical Olympian forecast.
After this outburst, which surprised me and woke my sister who'd only been asleep for an hour (night owl. hoot. hoot.), I stepped out to take a look. You've always got to take a long, awed look at the snow on the evergreens, and on the ground, and piled on top of the vehicles and softening the concrete. Moments of obvious beauty such as this are not to be missed. Like looking down on a city from a high hill. Like any moments pause when backpacking. When you stop, set the pack down, and look, asking yourself, just where have I gotten myself to?
What to do on this gift of a day:
--Stay in bed and read for as long as I want
--Go for a walk
--Read some of Oates' The Faith of a Writer
--Finish sifting through Poet's Market
--Have a snowball fight with Winston
--Print poems for pasting down
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