For a Friday, today was fairly productive. I took care of a lot of calls and emails. I made my best professional, grown up faces, and pretended my best professional, grown up imaginings. And at least for the moment, I have them fooled. Much more exciting is the fact that I have launched my topical blog, the Sociocafe, with a Twitter account to match. The focus is on coffee culture, with particular emphasis on local [Nashville] cafés and the people who “call them home”. Take a read and enjoy!
And now, the weather.
Nashville is getting a “winter storm” this weekend, which is code for a few inches, of course. We don’t seem to have the infrastructure in place to cope with anything more than an inch of snow, even though there is at least one instance every winter where we get significantly more than that. The Powers that Be Over the Snowplows and Salt Trucks are obviously not tight with Snowbird like I am.
Snow is beautiful. Not just the sight of it, but the thought of it: trillions of sparkly, geometric wonders, and no two alike. No wonder we often just stand with wonder in its midst, trying to collect them on our eyelashes. I also love the silence of snow. There’s something great to me about not being able to hear it fall. It gives it a more complete element of surprise. You might go to bed with a light dusting on the ground, and arise a few hours later to find the grass hidden under a brilliant white blanket. And it’s only then- after you calculate the dimensions of your igloo-that you realize it doesn’t matter if your elementary school is closed or not- since you haven’t been in about 15 years.
It can certainly be an inconvenience, or even a hazard; it can peeve us by ruining our plans. But more often than not, it takes us back. It makes us want to sleep late, get up to eat an unbalanced breakfast, and bolt outside with one too few layers, where we lie flailing on our backs, hoping to mimic the Divine.