Snowy Day

January 29, 2014 § 2 Comments


The College of Charleston preemptively cancelled classes today and tomorrow due to snowy weather. It didn’t snow. If you’re from the South, you’re probably accustomed to seeing rows of empty milk shelves when the temperature isn’t even below freezing. People lose their shit. I was slightly disappointed as the day went on and there was still no sparkling white to be found, but that didn’t stop me from basking in the thrill that comes naturally when word is broadcasted that we aren’t needed on campus.


This particular snowless snow day made January feel a little colder than it usually does in South Carolina.  The absence reminded me of the mornings where I have woken up to nothing but white and the people I love.  My heart is always in Minnesota, where my family gets the cold with the cons and I just get the good stuff during Christmas. Or last March, where the only snow I remember covered the stones in St.Mary Cemetery in Chicago and everyone looked dashing in black. It reminded me of being seventeen seeing a snowy Eiffel Tour in Paris on Thanksgiving Day with my favorite woman in the entire world. How could you not feel grateful when you spend your day thinking about how perfect things, not all the time, but often, are? You can’t. I bought myself flowers, read the paper, made a huge breakfast, caught up with an old friend, listened to records, baked cookies, and texted my mom. She instantly responded with “OMG!!! I JUST WENT 2 MY PHONE 2 TELL U WE GOT SNOW! Did u get snow?” I told her we didn’t, but that I was cozy wearing her Phantom Ranch Camp sweatshirt and wished that we were reading  The Snowy Day.

Not only did this morning remind me of the ways I remember snow, it caused me to notice the ways I’ve always wanted to document it.  One Christmas, I received a Barbie Polaroid Camera. I had no real concept of photography, but I remember (thanks to the hardcopies themselves) taking photos of very random objects in my house (i.e., stair banister, wooden chest, a couch pillow). Then there was a snow storm. I had to have taken at least ten photographs of the front yard. Not a variety of angles, just the same view over and over. Why wasn’t just one enough? That question is rhetorical because i’m still unsure.  Maybe I was just curious, or maybe my love of snow (or rain in general) was in the beginning stages, or both. Still, the ways we record what we believe to be meaningful should never be ignored- no matter how much your father complains about the cost of polaroid film.

The nostalgia ends here.



Breakfast prep.


Cookies prep.


St. Mary Cemetery

Snowy field driving through Wisconsin


My absolute favorite photo of my older brothers being little brothers.


Illustration from John Ezra Keats’s book, The Snowy Day.

View from my Aunt's kitchen // MN

View from my Aunt’s kitchen // MN

These dogs were actually pretty wild and hard to manage. I'm surprised I'm smiling/ not trampled.

These dogs were actually pretty wild and hard to manage. I’m surprised I’m smiling/ not trampled.


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§ 2 Responses to Snowy Day

  • L Sochko says:

    Dear Niece O’mine……how lucky am I to have found this blog! Do you know, I never knew you loved the rain……just like your Aunty:) How fun to read your MN references and see a photo of my back yard. BTW – woke up to 7″ of the white stuff just this am……..Dublin!!!!!!! You are one lucky gal – you rock!

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