Thoughts from a slow snow day in Music City

Delicate.

That’s all I could think of when I poked my head out my back door this morning around 8 a.m. As I walked around my yard, my shoes being swallowed whole with each step, I couldn’t help but feel like a kid again.

Just like everyone else in the Nashville area who experienced today’s downpour of snow—I think we’ve ended up around 7 inches officially—I strolled through the street, built a snowman, threw a few snowballs, and talked to neighbors I hadn’t seen outside in months.

But, honestly, what made today so different than any other day?

I mean, why do I like snow days so much? There’s an overtaking bewilderment of my senses. Milk and bread are scarce; Netflix binges abound. But why? Why because some precipitation falls from the sky and builds up in my yard does the city lose its marbles?

I spent some time thinking through the deeper meaning of this, and I think it’s because the snow causes us to slow down. Yes we play in the snow because it’s fun. But, really, what is it emotionally that brings everyone a rush of endorphins when the ground is blanketed in snow? I think we live in a world that’s constantly speeding up, and a snow day affords a deep breath of relaxation.

Take for instance our driving habits in the slush. As you’re driving in the snow—to successfully get from point A to point B—it’s best to go slower than you normally would. This isn’t groundbreaking, but it makes sense. When we slow down we find beauty in things we would normally overlook. This became all the more real—and hilarious—to me after one of my friends Instagrammed a photo of a porto-potty with a Lorelai Gilmore quote accompanying in the caption below.

“Everything’s magical when it snows,” the caption read.

Maybe the Gilmore Girls character wasn’t envisioning snow-caked poo-receptacles while marveling at her own wintery wonderland, but I think there’s something to be found here. Something deep in our psyche—at least for us in the South who are still enthralled with childlike wonder when the white stuff falls—that longs to find the beauty that we can so easily miss day after day.

I was even mentioning to my roommate this morning as I sat on my porch sipping tea and eating oatmeal that our neighborhood looked beautiful today. I found that amazing simply because I normally consider our neighborhood quite bland. Mundane. Average. Ordinary. But today I thought it was beautiful.

And I hope I remember to find the beauty all around me each day, even when it’s not covered in 7 inches of snow.