As I am writing this, it is snowing in one form or another, yet again. It was thundering a little while ago — the snow mixed with rain. Then it changed over to all snow, but now has stopped pretty much. It’s supposed to start up again in just a bit. Only God himself truly knows what form it will take this time.

This whole back and forth thing got me thinking about snow. What if snow were a person? If it were, acting the way it does, it would probably have no friends, would be divorced for sure and I doubt seriously it could hold down a job. Think about it.

It is arbitrary and most definitely unreliable. It will say it’s coming, even when it’s on its way, but often it is not on time. It’s sort of like a bad dinner guest. It’s either early, catching you not quite prepared, or it’s late, you’re sitting at home, having made all the preparations for its arrival, maybe even having left work early or canceled other plans, only to have it show up two hours late. You could have finished out the work day or done all the other things you needed to do, but didn’t. Even worse, sometimes it just doesn’t show up at all. Can you imagine having someone like that on your payroll?

I mean, it can show up and pretend to be your friend — like skiers or snowmobilers. But don’t get sucked in. It can disappear in a matter of hours, leaving you stuck in the mud among frozen stalks of corn stubble. It can pretend to be benign on your way to a destination and suddenly make your trek treacherous.

At times it tries to seduce you, by dropping big, fluffy flakes slowly to the ground — a wonder to behold. Then, boom! It teams up with the wind to blind your way or blow you about.

Don’t even get me started on sleet or slush. I have no idea what can be done about the fickle, sometimes fiendish nature of snow, but there is at least one thing about it that is predictable. Just as soon as we have gotten used to it being here, it just disappears.

Whatever.

Susan Schaub

Glenville