I love snow.
There I said it.
(Pause here for boos and hisses from snow haters).
Sure — it results in shoveling work, driving hazards and public expense for road clearing.
But there’s a lot to love about snow.
In a Minnesota winter, the landscape is pretty drab after grass goes dormant and trees are leafless, and snow brightens up the place.
It’s clean, white and — when it’s not coming down sideways — it creates a peaceful, Alpine village effect.
Rooftops are uniformly padded, tree limbs are artfully laden and holiday garland gains festive sparkling accents on greenery and berries.
Farmland sports its own winter beauty.
Snow-layered fields and pastures resemble frosting on angel food, and windswept snowdrifts are like sculpted dollops of Cool Whip.
For young snowmobilers, scenes like this evoke an intense urge to crisscross the unbroken surface with tracks.
As a grownup who’s experienced her share of sliding into ditches and falling on slippery surfaces, I can empathize with those who dislike winter.
But I never get wound up about scooping. If it’s not blocking the garage door too much, I drive over and through it to get to the road.
My husband (a snow hater) was shocked and dismayed by this behavior when we first met.
“Cement should be scooped,” he pointed out, clearly shaken by the hard-packed car tracks in front of my garage.
I disagreed.
Mother Nature put it there. She could take it away on the next thawing day. If that didn’t happen ‘til spring, so be it. We’d scoop as needed.
To call him a snow hater is a bit extreme, but I have given my husband the title of “snow czar.”
At the first sign of a flake, he’s on the job … warming up the skid loader and hauling out the shovels — which get handed to the snow-loving boys.
They also don’t appreciate clean cement, but they know it makes the snow czar happy and they know Mom loves the snow czar, so they scoop.
Needless to say, the holiday weather brought great joy (to most) in our house.
Our Christmas weekend gathering involved snowballs, snow angels, four-wheeler donuts and snowmobile rides.
Meanwhile, the snow czar busily zoomed around in the skid loader, pushing accumulations from the driveway into a mountain well off the driveway.
Life was good.
Especially after an extra half-foot of joy arrived the following week.
One calm night after everyone was in bed, I stepped outside on the porch for some fresh air.
The house was dark, the electric timer had turned off the outdoor Christmas lights, and it was a rare moment of no traffic on the nearby highway.
“Silent Night” came to mind while I deeply inhaled the crisp midnight air.
Only hours earlier, the snow czar had polished off what the scoopers missed on the front steps, so I smiled to notice snowflakes gently falling in the darkness …
… creating a new white layer on the clear, dry cement.