Snow days announced themselves by their utter silence. Tucked under the covers, the familiar traffic hum that would greet my waking, the cars going around the square where I lived, would be eerily absent. I would crawl to the window, hoping not to see any buses skulking around, a sure sign that school was out of the question.Then I would bundle up, don after ski boots and enjoy the crackle of the white powder under my feet, before it had a chance to turn brown and muddy.
These days, I live the experience of snow vicariously. Even if it flurried for about ten minutes five years ago, I am pretty sure that doesn’t count. In Bologna, though, where I come from, at this point they have had enough of the snow, that fell, pretty much uninterrupted, for two weeks. With most of Europe in the grip of snowstorms and sub-zero temperatures, I feel more and more guilty about the unprecedented warm winter California has been enjoying. For the first time in years, though, I wish I could experience the surprise of waking up and instantly knowing I was snowed in.
Photo courtesy of Bruno Barbiroli