I was afraid I had missed my chance, but we slipped in under the deadline. I'm camped in my favorite spot, watching a steady, strong snowfall, and multi-colored LED lights frame my view. This makes me as happy as a child. It would be better if the snow would pile up deeper, faster, but it's at least sticking to everything, including the street. I'm not going to complain. It was chilly when we went out this afternoon to put lights along the front eaves and in the aspen trees. They went up quickly, as most of the clips were still nailed into the soffits, and all we had to do was have me hand up strings while Mr X did all of the ladder work. As I watch the snow pour down through pinkish light, I am tempted to sleep with all of the curtains open tonight (and maybe bypass the timer so that the lights stay on all night.)
I know the snow isn't supposed to amount to a whole lot from this round of precipitation. There isn't a whole lot of moisture in the storm itself, and when it is all said and done, there will be two or three inches. Temperatures will be low enough to keep it around until the end of the week. It's just enough to get us in the right mindset. But my mind and my soul are already prepared for this white stuff. I want a big storm, the kind they talk about for a generation. "Remember the Blizzard of 2017? It took me days to dig out of that one..." I think the biggest snowfall I've ever experienced personally was a two-footer in North Dakota when the kids were in high school or junior high. I'd like to beat that record this year.
Oooh! I just saw my first snowplow of the year! Should I make a wish?
I have to close on something much less whimsical. A light has gone out in our CU Buffalo family. Last night, former Buffalo football player Rashaan Salaam was found dead in a park in Boulder, of an apparent suicide. Salaam was a star player who came to CU right after I left it, and played on some of the best teams our school had ever had (and was a big part of why they were the best). He won the Heisman Trophy, and played three years in the pros for the Chicago Bears. He was regarded very highly by people who knew him, coached him, or played along side of him. He was only 42 years old. It's too early to know yet what drove him to suicide, if that is indeed what happened, but I know that the possible role that football played in his decision will be discussed at length over the coming days and weeks. I love this game more than most women I know, but I do not like what it does to the athletes who play it. I hate seeing the players hurt, and I am deeply saddened when injuries or stresses of the game damage or end the players' lives. My sympathies go out to his family, and my heart is bleeding a little silver and gold tonight.
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