The Snows of Vancouver

This morning the frigid air left light gray frost on the darker gray field grasses under the nearly black Douglas Firs. The road looked wet in the headlights, and once in a while a lamp would expose a tan house in the predawn light. As I raced along the empty country roads, the sky lightened until the indigo gave way to bluish gray. By the time I reached the beginning of the industrial area, pink glowed behind Mt. Hood.

The sun wouldn't peek out from behind the mountain until I was settled into the closet, but I imagined a crisp, beautiful, sunny day. My lunch time was spent in an empty, windowless office while I worked on editing. About three in the afternoon, I heard the gasping breaths of co-workers. Snow. I ran out to the office area and squinted out the window at the dark rain. If you stared long enough you could see a snowflake occasionally float down among the drops.

Panic.

Two flakes stuck to the ground.

Mass panic.

The radio interrupted regular programming to begin 24 hour news coverage of the blizzard. By four o'clock drifts as high as a half inch had accumulated.

It looked like fun to me. I didn't want to miss driving in it.

"Gosh, look at the size of the flakes. They are the size of a quarter. They are huge," I casually mentioned over the dire predictions of an inch to three inches expected. "Look at the top of my car, it is completely covered." I made a bunch of tsk tsk noises and shook my head.

"Go home," my boss said. "You'll never get up your dirt road hill if you wait any longer."

"Yes," I made my voice shake to announce my concern. "I must go now, while I can make it." I shut off my computer, zipped up my black windbreaker and nearly ran out to the car. If I'd had my red shoes on, they would have acted as snow shoes.

(The white splotches are actually snow flakes including the one on the right rear quarter panel)

I jumped in and remembered I would have to chip away the frozen glacier on the windshield. I started to climb out, but decided to turn on the wipers instead. Hopefully no one would notice how easily it brushed off until I was out of the parking lot on my way home.

I love the Northwest. By the time I got home, the snow had turned back into rain.