Waiting on the Tapioca Snow…

I love those first few weeks of winter, when the home and life are buttoned up in preparation for the long, cold season.
The final coats of paint, the weather-stripping, the topping off of radiators, and chopping of the wood.
Well, the wood chopping part is a bittersweet pill.
Winter is a rite of passage unlike any other, and one of the reasons I couldn't live in the Deep South for more than a few years.
Down below the Mason-Dixon, they close the schools, roads and malls if they think it might snow!
Up here, we stay open later, allow students and workers to be a little tardy, and fire up mothballed snow removal equipment for its lone duty of clearing our driveways and sidewalks of the brilliant, sticky gift from above.
The pure joy of watching a youngster or pet play in the sticky precip is worth the extra gas bills and frozen pipes.
Well, it helps offset the cost a bit.
There are several kinds of snow, and they all have meteorological names, and some great nicknames as well.
My favorite is "Tapioca Snow," also called "graupel," "soft hail" and "snow pellets."
But Tapioca Snow says it best.
This is the kind of snow that sticks to itself, sometimes in sheets. It falls almost in clumps on the yard, sticking to hats, coats and yipping Chihuahuas like a veil.
Yes, Tapioca Snow is awful cool, if only because of its rarity. It's almost as though the sky had a snowy afterthought, and couldn't make up its mind.
"Yes, snow it is! Thick, sticky snow for the masses…wait, maybe some sleet. Hold on, make that rain. Wait, let's do the snow thing," I can imagine Old Man Winter saying to Mother Nature over breakfast.
"Make up your mind, Oldie!" Ma Nature says with a huff. "What do you think this is, jewelry shopping?"
There is a certain charm to those first few snowfalls. The whole world slows down a bit, crime rates tumble, and even grumpy folks can cajole a smile from their grizzled faces.
Sure, all snow gets old after seeing it, fighting with it and driving in it for five months. I have friends and relatives who alter their lives to limit any possible contact with snow.
They combine trips, go to the store the day before a “snow event,” and even plan their vacations when they think it will be snowiest.
They are missing the point.
Snow is a true meteorological rarity on the grand scale of the universe.
I’m really going to go out on a limb now, and suggest that it is because of the fluffy white accident inducer that UFO reports have increased so much over the past few decades.
Yes, I’m guessing those aliens are visiting us because we have such wonderful snow.
We’ve been thinking all those alien visits were just to observe us, or to perform bizarre mating and propagation rituals?
Right. I highly doubt we’re that appealing to a race of bug-eyed, pasty skinned Gary Coleman look alikes.
“Oh, these Homo Sapiens are so sexy! I love all the body and facial hair, their lack of astronomical knowledge, and their tiny foreheads!” I can imagine a Pleiades-based race of travelers saying. “They make me want to abduct them, and tie them to a table, so I can perform experiments on them!”
No, the real reason the aliens are here is because of the snow.
Can you imagine a fusion-powered, Mach 2-capable, anti-gravity snowmobile?
I would need the turbo version of ‘Depends’™ to drive that sucker.
Yes, there is something special about those first few snowfalls; the silence, the rustling, drifting in perfect looping geometric patterns, even the way it crunches underfoot on cold, cold days.
I could live without the ice dams, and maybe even without “snert” – that ugly late-winter concoction created when snow mixes with the prairie dirt.
But I can’t live without snow, or the cleansing effect it has on an otherwise dirty planet.
You might think you hate it. You can run from it, avoid it, or even ignore it, but you will always miss the snow when you move to Arizona.
Don’t believe me? Tell me you didn’t recall some great snow memory when it first hit. Whether it was sliding, skiing, snowmobiling or skiing, everyone has at least one great “snow event” to recall.
I turned off all the lights, and watched it slowly collect on the mailbox beneath the streetlight, watching as the vaporous drifts collected beneath my vehicles.
I say bring it on, baby. Bring it on.
I’m ready.