Hunkering Down

One of the eccentricities of the town where I live is that it snows very infrequently.  At the first sign of a flake, they close the schools, milk, bread and tire chains fly off the store shelves,  and the local TV news stations compete for who can come up with the catchiest weather event name.  I am not exaggerating:  This year's snowfall has been christened "Arctic Blast 08".  With a name like that, I feel entitled to stay inside indefinitely. 

To tell the truth, this completely feeble attitude toward snow is one of my favorite things about my city.  The snow falls so seldom here that we are, municipally speaking, ill-prepared.  There aren't enough snowplows.  We don't keep large stocks of de-icing chemicals.  There are even problems spreading gravel around in the rare event that snow falls very quickly.  So when it does really come down (every decade or so, whether we need it or not), the whole place comes to a screeching halt.

When this happens, we hunker down.  Not being accustomed to driving in the white stuff, people around here just stay home.  "Scared to drive in" is a totally legitimate excuse for not showing up in many workplaces.  The children in our town are so delirious with joy that they will play in the snow for as long as their parents will let them.  Knowing their chances are few and far between, the snowmen come to life RIGHT AWAY on my street. 

For all of this to be happening right before Christmas is even more rare.  Our Christmases are known for gale-force windstorms, or rain of Biblical proportions, but not the Currier-and-Ives stuff.  Imagine the excitement at my house when our ice-skating children learned that the pond in our neighborhood has frozen!  (For the record, I do not poses the parenting chops to allow them to try skating on it, much to their dismay.  I still hold the title for Meanest Mommy In The World.)

So my immediate plans are just to stay in and knit.  I want to tell you that this is pretty much my dream vacation:  Nobody needs me at the office.  The smallies and I baked cookies.  Husband has adequate sports and movie media to keep him entertained indefinitely.  And I have the Faery Ring.

In case I have failed to mention it, this project is WAY FUN.  Imagine wool of such uncompromising gorgeousness that you would blow off any and all commitments to keep knitting with it.  Visualize color at once so subtle and so complicated that just staring at is meditation.  Contemplate an afternoon spent throwing the rugged yet delicate strands, and understand just what a bonus this snowstorm is for me.  If the weather keeps up this way, I'll have it finished in record time.  That means that you could be knitting your own Faery Ring by New Year!  Keep thinking snowy thoughts.