[Critique Group 1] Marcia's June submission

[Marcia Wick]

Seeing Snow for the First Time

Marcia J. Wick, The Write Sisters

June 2019

Word Count:  564

 

 

A blizzard in late spring is not that unusual where we live - 6,000 feet
above sea level in the foothills of the Colorado Rockies. This year, winter
had been mostly moderate with sunshine and light snowfall, until March when
spring roared in like a lion. Doplar radar watchers warned that a "cyclone
bomb" was headed our way from the west coast where it had caused dangerous
flooding. Schools, government offices, and employers announced closures the
night before the anticipated storm, even though skies were blue and
temperatures were still in the 50s.

 

Forecasting the weather in Colorado is no simple feat. "If you don't like
the weather, just wait 10 minutes and it will change," locals are fond of
saying. Early prediction of the unusual cyclone bomb, however, proved
accurate. In the morning, we were slammed with high winds, freezing rain,
drifting snow, and white-out conditions.

 

In April, when weather prognosticators warned of another spring blizzard,
the city hunkered down again.  Cancellations and early dismissals were
called early in the morning although the sun was shining, temperatures were
in the 60s, and the roads were clear. I hurried to my father's house,
throwing a change of clothes at the last minute into my back pack, unsure if
I'd get stranded once there and be forced to spend the night.

 

Halfway through the day, the ominous forecast still waited in the wings as
the audience grew restless for its appearance.  Settling opposite my dad at
the table, me with my lunch and him with his breakfast, He flipped the pages
of the newspaper, his favorite preoccupation, and happens upon the blizzard
warning.

 

"Rain and snow, temperatures dropping into the 20s," he glanced out the
window, perplexed at the sunny scene.

 

At 2:00, still under sunny skies, Dad's caregiver departed to pick up her
sister who was being released early from work to "beat the storm."  I
thought perhaps this time the weather gurus might have gotten it wrong.
Settling Dad into his easy chair for some late afternoon television, I
glanced out the living room window as the clouds burst. Fat raindrops
transformed into fluffy snowflakes mid-flight, turning the springtime scene
into an avalanche of winter. 

 

"Look at that! What is that?" my Dad asked.

 

"It's snowing after all," I said, amazed myself at the sudden turn in
seasons.

 

Dad gaped at the falling flakes, as if seeing snow for the first time in his
94-year-long life. No stranger to snow, my father skied the powder slopes of
Colorado for six decades, climbed more than 30 mountains above 14,000 feet
where snow remained year round, camped in winter snow caves, and climbed
Pikes Peak in a blizzard on New Year's Eve to help shoot off fireworks from
the summit. Still, my slow-moving father jumped out of his chair like a
four-year-old boy seeing snow for the first time.

 

"Look at it, look at it! It's everywhere, all around," he twisted his bald
head back and forth as I fought to catch his flailing arms into his coat
sleeves. Coatless myself, I chased Dad out the door onto the deck where he
continued to stare at the scene. As if the clouds were having a pillow
fight, the sky was flooded with white balls of cotton.

 

Giggling like a four-year-old girl, I stuck out my tongue as if tasting snow
for the first time, too.

 

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