A couple of weeks ago CNN ran a story about the crazy things kids do to ensure a snow day. Snow rituals, it seems, are more ubiquitous than I ever imagined. Donning special "snow-making" clothing inside out, flushing ice cubes down the john, and performing weather incantations are just some of the things kids and adults do to conjure up snow worthy of school cancellation.
In my family, my mother would use the old "Be quiet and it will snow" technique if the weather threatened the white stuff. Oh, sure, I see through it now, but it worked for a goodly number of years (meaning that maybe sometimes we got snow, but we certainly always got quiet). And don't think I was above using this little snow incantation on my own little Kate.
I remember reading the great Conrad Aiken short story "Silent Snow, Secret Snow" for freshman English in college. Of course, it really wasn't about snow (and if you haven't read it, get thee to a good short-story anthology), but because of my association of snow with silence, it resonated with me immediately. To this day, the heavy, muffled silence after a snowfall still brings the Aiken story and my mother's words to mind.
Except that we haven't had any snow in Atlanta this year. Sigh. I'll try being quiet for a while. If that doesn't work, I'm going for the ice-cube trick.
(The picture? Snow Day 1958, Chattanooga, Tennessee. Wonder where brother David was? Hm.)