I've been home for the weekend to help celebrate my grandmother's 91st birthday (more on that later). We got about 8 inches of snow today. I haven't lived in New Hampshire for 9 years but I still "know" snow. Growing up in New Hampshire, where by March you are pretty sure that the only kind of weather there is is snow, you get to know snow. By my first two steps outside I can tell what kind of snow it is by the sounds it makes and the way it feels under my boots. When I was young, I could tell in those first two steps if the snow was wet and would be good for building snowmen and snow forts, or if we should trade our snow engineer hats for sleds because it was dry. As I got older, those first two steps told me how heavy the snow would be to shovel and how annoyed I should be about the plow piling snow in front of my car. But at any age the most important thing those two steps told me was if there would be a snow day! Well I guess that only lasted until I was 18 when I found out: No snow days in college!? What the hell!?
While this snow storm has kept me housebound for the day, it has reminded me how beautiful snow can be, which you can forget while living in New York.
I feel like I haven't played any Beatles in a while so here you go.