Monday, January 19, 2009

Snow!




We just MIGHT have snow here tomorrow. This is big news for us in the land of cotton and sweet potatoes. I grew up in Ohio and in my first few years down South I was a bit mocking of the local tendency to run to the grocery at the first rumor of a flake but now that I have acclimated, I love it. A snowfall of any measureable amount will fill the streets in my neighborhood with sliders and skaters and walkers of all kinds out to gawk at even a minor change in the familiar landscape. We meet and greet and chat and laugh. It is a day off, a holiday. I have to say that I am now the first in my family to cross my fingers and wear my lucky shirt when snow is predicted.

This is a dilemma, though, with the stores. We may be able to get to work, but then again, if my Southern Belle staff can't drive themselves to work and my customers shouldn't do we really need to be open? Beads aren't medicine. Fancy ribbons aren't food. You don't need what we sell. I tend to embrace the day off and take it for the gift it is. I play with my children, take walks, sometimes do a bit of work at the studio table if time permits. I know that there are customers who think it's funny; we hear a lot of the 'well, I am from New Jersey and we never thought to close for two inches of snow!' but I just say, hey, you are not in New Jersey anymore. Put on some warm socks and ask your neighbor to teach you how to make a decent biscuit. The rest of us are going to go for a walk and act like fools in all this snow.

These photos are from an ancient snow event...that's my Nora Lou, barely seven months old but sticking her tongue out to try to catch a snowflake as she watched her big sis do the same. Those riding toys are in our backyard; one of my many follies indulged by the husband years before the girls were part of our family. Then the toys were 'Yard Art' and ridden only by tipsy, adult partygoers, now they are ridden frequently by smaller, gigglier jockeys. I hope I get to take some new pictures tomorrow. My fingers are crossed.