Unexpectedly, our little town was covered. For days and days.
but snow in a little town
buried in the hills and vineyards of western Oregon-
a town small enough to not own a snow plow-
is a unique experience.
On the third day after it began in earnest...
the whole world was still white.
That does not happen in Chicago.
Nothing had been plowed. No one could drive. There was no gray slush all over the roads.
When it snows in Oregon, the snow stays.
And in a small town that's slow-paced anyway...
when it snows like this,
one and all go unapologetically into hibernation-mode.
Everyone camped out at their homes and with their neighbors.
On the third day the coffee shop opened, and some people walked there.
I made it to the post office, packages carefully tucked in garbage bags-
when I got there the woman behind the desk laughed at all the snow piled on my shoulders and hat.
I heart my quirky town. This was from about an hour after it started, when no one was sure if it would stick or not...
Thursday night Jeffrey and Sheri unexpectedly showed up at my door on skis.
I texted families on my street and Friday morning, when kids had no school and grown-ups had no work, we had a spontaneous neighbor potluck brunch (with eggs from this chicken!).
My girls spent two days making a massive snow village,
complete with various roads, rooms, an igloo, and a restaurant (serving snowballs topped in maple syrup).
We had a serious and intergenerational snowball fight.
I participated in the building of two snowmen,
and had one drawn on my window in [window] crayon.
I walked the mile-ish to Kim and Jeff's the first night, thinking I'd easily head home after dinner;
a plan that was quickly thwarted by the three-times-as-long-as-expected it took me to get there.
So I got to have a spontaneous sleepover with my buddies-
(following Mom's instructions not to talk when they came downstairs in the morning so as not to wake me up, they whispered to me as they climbed under the covers that they were being very quiet).
(7:10 am. They're so worth it.)
Friends with 4-wheel drive who eventually made it out texted around for grocery orders, and delivered.
(And found this at the store-
because apparently Oregonians stock up on fresh produce when they hear a storm's a-brewin'.)
A hitched ride with one of those 4-wheel-drivers eventually got me to the Fawvers Saturday evening,
where I joined them in eating cinnamon rolls, reading on the couch, watching the Olympics, and playing Ticket to Ride.
The next day Nicole and Nancy joined me for the three-mile hike back to town.
We waved hello to their car as we passed it on the way,
where they'd left it at the beginning of the snow storm when it became clear that maneuvering it through the hills to their home was not in the cards.
With no school, no work, no church,
a once-in-five-years world surrounding us,
and everyone making use of what food and fun they had readily available...
we read and watched movies and baked,
bundled and walked and skiied and sled,
stopped by each other's houses to knit and eat soup and find entertainment on day four of no roads,
spent time with people we might not normally see (or do, but can't get enough of!)
and enjoyed a kind of beauty our corner of the world doesn't have every day.
It was my kind of week.