Photos at washingtonpost.com of the snow.
People here in California have heard me say I miss the snow. To a person, they all point out that it’s an easy day trip up to the Sierras, or for a weekend – if I really want to see snow. … feh
I look at these photos at the Washington Post website and I see what I miss – when snow is delivered to you where you live your daily life. The sense of community, the shared struggle to deal with it, the touch of tragedy here and there that makes it feel closer. A sense of the balance of power between you and nature. The streets and sidewalks that you travel daily are transformed into wonders. It shakes you up from your daily routine. Everybody is affected. It brings out character in people.
None of this would come from driving a few hours up into the Sierras to go “visit the snow”. Stay at an inn and eat at restaurants and shops, while the locals deal with their lives that go on – in the snow. Off sledding or skiing or hiking in picturesque snowy woods – while the locals are getting what I miss – the uninvited impact on your life. When you’ve had enough, or you need to get back to your “life”, you just drive back down the mountains to your home and your snow-less life. No struggle to keep on with your life amidst the damn snow in as cheery a mood as you can be grateful for.