February 1940. The main street in Iowa City during a snowstorm.
This weekend we had our first real snowfall of the year (or at least a snowfall that stuck around long enough for me to appreciate it!) I've always loved the way the world looks when it's covered by a fresh blanket of white. Ah...remember those days when you would wake up to the sound of the snow plow and hope-against-hope that it might be a snow day?
Of course, here in Iowa City, we don't actually see snow plows all too often. Rather than plowing in the wee hours of the night or early morning as most New England towns, Iowa City seems to wait until the snow melts on its own. I have heard that the city stocks enough salt for the year to last about a month in New England (please note: Iowa does not get LESS snow/ice than New England - you do the math.) Given that the midwest is known for its ice storms, this really doesn't make any sense to me, but I guess I don't make the rules.
I suppose if I were still a kid, the horrendous road conditions wouldn't matter all that much. Of course, now that I'm a "homeowner" and "adult", snow = shoveling the driveway, the walkway, making sure the pipes don't freeze, buying snowtires, and stocking an emergency car kit
Even so, the first snowfall is still a magical day. If only I could spend days like this at home, drinking (spiked) hot chocolate and reading a book!
Midwesterners shovel their driveway.