My kids tried every known ritual in their attempt to draw the snow god's cold & flakey gifts from the sky, forcing the most beloved of all childhood days: The Snow Day. No school.
They went to bed with their pajamas on inside-out. Nothing.
They went to bed with their pajamas on inside-out AND a spoon under their pillows. Nothing.
They went to bed with their pajamas on inside-out AND a spoon under their pillows facing North. Nothing.
They went to bed with their pajamas on inside-out, the spoon facing North under their pillows AND they went to bed early. Nothing.
And then last night, when they fell asleep without the ritual, all hope exhausted, what shall await them upon rising?! A Snow Day! No school.
And what a snow day it was. Off and on all day, we watched the heavy flakes fall from the sky draping everything in a calming hush of white. It was the type of snow that forces all kids (and kids at heart) to catch the flakes, in palms and on tongues.
I also thought about the other creatures of this snow day---the birds feasting heavily at the bird feeders outside the kitchen window and the flock of plump quail scurrying around below them. I sat by the fire inside the house politely watching them all go about their day. And I thought about their snow day rituals-----their basic need for survival. I realized how strange it was that on a very simplistic level, our needs aren't so very different. We're all creatures trying to live, trying to survive. It's beyond those basic needs that life becomes so convoluted, I guess.
Perhaps my thoughts were prompted by my current book and a new perspective on winter...
Winter World by Bernd Heinrich