Last Friday I was supposed to drive to Denver. I was looking forward to it; I was planning outfits…and then Winter decided to crash the party. Observing what was happening between Albuquerque and Denver on Thursday (snow), and observing the weekend forecast for Denver (snow), not to mention observing that I would be driving solo and my beloved Toyota Corolla does not have four-wheel drive, I canceled my trip.
I was NOT happy with the white stuff.
And then, as if the snow wanted to throw in a touchdown dance, Albuquerque got hit with it on both Thursday and Friday nights. I wanted to declare, “Excessive celebration!” and demand a penalty.
But then I realized snow doesn’t play football, and doesn’t care about its rules. After a good night’s sleep on Friday, I peered out the window on Saturday morning and thought, Ok, yes, I made the right decision in not driving up there. I thought, Ok, yes, having this much snow in a land of persistent sunshine is…kind of cool.
My attitude needed more time to improve, though. Robin Hood and I eased into the day. I had a gloriously long catch-up chat with one of my best friends; he played video games; the fireplace earned its keep. Finally, in the early afternoon, we both got restless. Which meant: snow walk!
We snow-suited up [read: I had plastic bags taped around my legs because I didn’t have actual snow boots to wear] and stepped out into the winter wonderland.
The snow was already melting. Such is Albuquerque and its sunshine.
Nevertheless, we romped along the sidewalks and streets of our neighborhood, exchanging greetings with sledders, shovelers, and anyone else who had ventured outside. We had a snowball fight – really, multiple snowball skirmishes all along the way – and I swear it was one of the most romantic moments of our relationship.
My anger towards snow began to ebb.
The next day, we met up with friends to go inner-tubing. Now I have done plenty of sledding in my time, but tubing? Never. I was intrigued.
We wound up at one of the designated “snowplay” areas on the East side of the Sandia mountains. Once again, I wore my makeshift bags-and-tape gaiters, but no matter. As we trudged through the snow to the picnic area that our friends had claimed, I was already imagining the feeling of skimming down a hill, wind against my face.
While lunch cooked on a grill, Robin Hood and I got impatient and trotted over to the hill where folks were sledding/tubing. I looked at it and got all giddy. It had been so long. Feeling generous in my giddiness, I let Robin Hood have the first ride. As soon as he returned to the top, though, I eagerly took the tube into my arms, carefully selected a good spot, and launched.
It lasted all of 12 or 15 seconds, but those seconds were pure unfiltered joy. My first thought afterwards was, How have I let so much time pass since I last played in the snow??
Snow can be maddening. I’ll be the first to say that. But it does have its redeeming moments. And…every once in a while…it’s actually pretty darn fun.