It's Coming ...

Will it really happen this time? I suppose it remains to be seen ... the proof is in the white stuff that will -- or will not be -- be on the ground. I can't recall how many forecasts we've had for "mind-blowing blizzards" or "death-defying snow drifts" -- OK, maybe not quite that dramatic -- and ended up with just enough snow to sweep it off the steps. Right -- sweep, with a broom, not a shovel.

What we've been hearing around here falls in the typical NJ-hype range: a broom-able 2 inches to a "stop-ya-in-yer-tracks" 2 feet! Gotta love that forecast.

But it's cold. Bitter, bitter cold. The kind of cold where your fingers ache and refuse to work; the kind of cold where the insides of your nostrils sting. Plus, it's very windy, blowing icy daggers right through your layers of clothing. But it's the smell ... that inexplicable unscented smell in the air, that triggers something in your brain. It's coming ...

This afternoon, after spending the entire morning at church working at a fundraiser, I changed my clothes (donning a very bulky getup of thick sweatpants and woolly sweater) and went back to church when no one else was around. I smelled that smell ... I felt those icy stings ... and it felt great. My goal was to finally -- finally! -- dig up the plants around our church sign that had long since reached their end, now brittle sticks of death looking very unattractive. The soil was frozen solid, so I had no choice but to leave the roots behind as the stems easily broke off. It felt strange, "gardening" in such frigid weather, but with this "massive snowstorm" on the way I wanted to get all of that taken care of before it was buried in snow.

I'm skeptical. It's been a few hours now and there's not much out there -- not even enough to broom off the front steps. The Powers-That-Be are trying to figure out whether or not to cancel church tomorrow, but we'll have to wait and see. I rather hope not, for the kids are putting on their Christmas program and my own two performers don't want to miss this for anything, not even mountains of snow. Aidan is the "Head Holy Angel," as he reminds us often, so he feels as if his role simply can't be postponed for another week. I guess we'll just have to see what Jack Frost does -- or does not -- blow our way.